

LONGFELLOWS 
MILES 

STANDISH 








Class J3_ilA2^ 

As 

Book ^_^_ 



Copyright N" 



9 & 5 fi- 



COPVRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 
AND MINOR POEMS 



ixriaimuuui 5 qpaiKci ^aiucucaii auo iinjgusi) y^^uissus. 



A Series of English Texts, edited for use in Elementary and 
Secondary Schools, with Critical Introductions, Notes, etc. 



I6mo. 



Cloth. 



25c. each. 



Addison's Sir Roger de Coverley. 

Andersen's Fairy Tales. 

Arabian Nights' Entertainments. 

Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum. 

Bacon's Essays. 

Blackmore's Lorna Doone. 

Browning, Mrs., Poems (Selected). 

Browning's Shorter Poems. 

Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. 

Burke's Speech on Conciliation. 

Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. 

Byron's Shorter Poems. 

Carlyle's Essay on Burns. 

Carlyle's Heroes and Hero Worship. 

Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Won- 
derland (Illustrated). 

Chaucer's Prologue and Knight's Tale. 

Church's The Story of the Iliad. 

Church's The Story of the Odyssey. 

Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner. 

Cooper's The Deerslayer. 

Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans. 

Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. 

De Quincey's Confessions of an 
English Opium-Eater. 

De Quincey's Joan of Arc and Eng- 
lish Mai! Coach. 

Dickens' A Christmas Carol, and The 
Cricket on the Hearth. 

Dryden's Palamon and Arcite. 

Early American Orations, 1760-1824. 

Edwards' (Jonathan* Sermons. 

Eliot's Silas Marner. 

Emerson's Essays. 

Epoch-making Papers in U. S. History. 

Franklin's Autobiography. 

Gaskell, Mrs.. Cranford. 

Goldsmith's Deserted Village and Other 
Poems. 

Goldsmith's The Vicar of Wakefield. 

Grimm's Fairy Tales. 

Hawthorne's Grandfather's Chair. 

Hawthorne's The House of the Seven 
Gables. 

Hawthorne's Twice-told Tales (Selec- 
tions from). 

Hawthorne's Wonder-Book. 

Homer's Iliad. 

Homer's Odyssey. 

Irving's Life of Goldsmith. 



Irving's Sketch Book. * 

Irving's The Alhambra. 

Keary's Heroes of Asgard. 

Kingsley's The Heroes. 

Lamb's Essays. 

Lamb's The Essays of Elia, 

Longfellow's Evangeline. 

Longfellow's Miles Standish. 

Lowell's The Vision of Sir Launfal. 

Macaulay's Essay on Addison. 

Macaulay's Essay on Hastings. 

Macaulay's Essay on Lord Clive. 

Macaulay's Essay on Milton. 

Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome. 

Macaulay's Life of Samuel Johnson. 

Milton's Comus and Other Poems. 

Milton's Paradise Lost, Bks. I and II. 

Old English Ballads. 

Out of the Northland. 

Palgrave's Golden Treasury. 

Plutarch's Lives (Csesar, Brutus, and 
Mark Antony). 

Foe's Poems. 

Poe's Prose Tales (Selections from). 

Pope's Homer's Iliad. 

Pope's The Rape of the Lock. 

Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies, 

Scott's Ivanhoe. 
Scott's Lady of the Lake. 
Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. 
Scott's Marmion. 
Scott's Quentin Durward. 
Scott's The Talisman. 
Shakespeare's As You Like It. 
Shakespeare's Hamlet. 
Shakespeare's Henry V. 
Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. 
Shakespeare's Macbeth. 
Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. 
Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. 
Shelley and Keats : Poems. 
Southern Poets : Selections. 
Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book I. 
Stevenson's Treasure Island. 
Swift's Gulliver's Travels- 
Tennygon's Idylls of the King. 
Tennyson's Shorter Poems. 
Tennyson's The Princess. 
Woolman's Journal. 
Wordsworth's Shorter Poems. 



OTHERS TO FOLLOW. 




HENRY WADSWORTH LONC^FELLOW 



LONGFELLOW'S 

THE COUETSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 

AND MINOR POEMS 



EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 
BY 

WILL DAVID HOWE, Ph.D. 

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN BUTLER COLLEGE 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd. 
1905 

All rigliis referred 



OCT. 2€ lyub 
I 3i9 S^ 3 I 



r^C 



COPTKIGHT, 1905, 

By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. 



Set up and electrotyped. Published November, 1905. 



^ CONTENTS 

^ PAGE 

JIntroduction : 

I. The Life of Longfellow ix 

II. Comment on Longfellow's Poetry .... xvii 

III. The Chronology of Longfellow's poems and their rela- 
tion to other works of American Literature . . xx 

IV. Books for Consultation xxiii 

V. Suggestions for Study xxiv 

Poems : 

The Courtship of Miles Standish 1 

Prelude . 63 

Hymn to the Night 67 

A Psalm of Life 68 

The Reaper and the Flowers 69 

The Light of Stars 71 

Footsteps of Angels . . . . • v • .72 

Flowers 74 

The Beleaguered City 76 

Midnight Mass for the Dying Year 78 

Woods in Winter 80 

Hymn of the Moravian Nuns of Bethlehem . . .81 

Sunrise on the Hills 83 

The Spirit of Poetry 84 

Burial of the Minnisink 86 

The Skeleton in Armor 88 

The Wreck of the Hesperus 93 

V 



VI 



CONTENTS 



The Village Blacksmith 

The Rainy Day . 

God's-Acre . 

To the River Charles 

The Goblet of Life 

Maidenhood 

Excelsior 

Serenade 

Carillon 

The Belfry of Bruges 

A Gleam of Sunshine 

The Arsenal at Springfield 

Rain in Summer . 

The Bridge . 

The Day is Done 

The Old Clock on the Stairs 

The Arrow and the Song 

Autumn 

Dante .... 

Curfew ... 

The Building of the Ship 

Seaweed 

The Secret of the Sea . 

Twilight 

Sir Humphrey Gilbert . 

The Lighthouse . 

The Fire of Driftwood 

Resignation . 

The Builders 

Birds of Passage . 

Gaspar Becerra . 

Pegasus in Pound 



CONTENTS 



Vll 



The Singers 

Prometheus, or the Poet's Forethought 

Epimetheus, or the Poet's Afterthought 

The Ladder of Saint Augustine 

The Phantom Ship 

The Warden of the Cinque Ports 

Haunted Houses . 

In the Churchyard at Cambridge 

The Emperor's Bird's Nest ., 

The Two Angels . 

Daylight and Moonlight 

The Jewish Cemetery at Newpor 

Oliver liasselin 

Victor Galbraith . 

My Eost Youth . 

The Kopewalk . 

The Golden Mile-Stone 

Catawba Wine 

Santa Filomena . 

The Discoverer of the North Cape 

Daybreak 

The Fiftieth Birthday of Agassiz 

Children 

Sardalphon . 

Notes 

Index to Notes 



INTRODUCTION 



THE MAN AND POET 



Birth 



Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was born 
February 27, 1807, in Portland, Maine, in 
a house still standing and known as "the Longfellow 
House." His parents, Stephen and Zilpha (Wads- 
worth), Longfellow were descendants from Yorkshire 
families that had come to this country in the latter half 
of the seventeenth century. Henry, the second son, 
received his name from a maternal uncle, Henry Wads- 
worth. The boyhood years of the poet were spent in 
the beautiful city of Portland, with its charming view 
across the bay, the mountains at the other side, and 
Deering's Woods in the outskirts, where the boys of the 
city spent many Saturday afternoons and holidays. 
The Life, edited by his brother Samuel, brings before 
us an interesting picture of the poet's early days at 
home. 

" Henry is remembered by others as a lively 
Youth , . / , , , . , , 

boy, with brown or chestnut hair, blue eyes, 

a delicate complexion, and rosy cheeks; sensitive, im- 
pressionable ; active, eager, impetuous, often impatient ; 

ix 



X INTRODUCTION 

quick-tempered, but as quickly appeased; kind-hearted 
and affectionate, — the sunHght of the house. He had 
great neatness and love of order. He was always 
extremely conscientious, 'remarkably solicitous always 
to do right,' his mother wrote. 'True, high-minded and 
noble, — never a mean thought or act,' says his sister; 
injustice in any shape he could not brook. He was 
industrious, prompt, and persevering; he went into 
everything he undertook with great zest." 

Inheriting from his mother a very sensitive 

and romantic imagination and from his 
father traits of natural courtesy and honesty, Henry 
Longfellow grew up in a home where books and music 
were common and where he learned to value fine charac- 
ter, true friends, and good reading. He received his 
first education at the Portland Academy; at the age 
of fourteen he entered Bowdoin College, founded twenty 
years before at Brunswick, and graduated in the class 
of 1825, not with great distinction but as one of the 
honor men of an especially strong class. That for some 
time the question of a profession had been occupying 
his mind is attested by a letter which he wrote to his 
father in December before he graduated and which 
revealed interestingly the aspiration of the young 
collegian. 

" I take this early opportunity to write you, 

because I wish to follow fully your inclina- 



INTRODUCTION XI 

tion with regard to the profession I am to pursue when 
I leave college. For my part I have already hinted 
to you what would best please me. I want to spend a 
year at Cambridge for the purpose of reading history 
and of becoming familiar with the best authors of polite 
literature; whilst at the same time I can be acquiring 
a knowledge of the Italian language, without an ac- 
quaintance with which I shall be shut out from one of 
the most beautiful departments of letters. The French 
I mean to understand pretty thoroughly before I leave 
college. After leaving Cambridge I would attach myself 
to some literary periodical publication, by which I 
could maintain myself and still enjoy the advantages 
of reading. Now, I do not think that there is' anything 
visionary or chimerical in my plan thus far. The fact 
is — and I will not disguise it in the least, for I think 
I ought not — the fact is, I most eagerly aspire after 
future eminence in literature; my whole soul burns 
most ardently for it, and every earthly thought centres 
in it. There may be something visionary in this, but 
I flatter myself that I have prudence enough to keep 
my enthusiasm from defeating its own object by too 
great haste. Surely there was never a better oppor- 
tunity offered for the exertion of literary talent in our 
own country than is now offered. 

"Whether Nature has given me any capacity for 
knowledge or not, she has at any rate given me a 



xii INTRODUCTION 

very strong predilection for literary pursuits, and I am 
almost confident in believing that, if I can ever rise in 
this world, it must be by the exercise of my talent in 
the wide field of literature. With such a belief, I must 
say that I am unwilling to engage in the study of law. " 
To this letter the father replied, discouraging the 
proposed literary career, but approving the plan of 
the year at Cambridge. 

Immediately upon graduation, Longfellow 
Tintment ^'^^eived the appointment to the recently 
created department of Modern Language 
at Bowdoin, with the permission to spend the year 
abroad in travel and study. The remainder of the 
year 1826 he spent in France; then eight months in 
Spain, a year in Italy, and half a year in Germany 
brought him back, eager and enthusiastic for the new 
work in the autumn of 1829. His lectures covered the 
various modern languages, Italian, Spanish, and French, 
and were prepared and delivered with the genuine ardor 
of a young romanticist. As a pioneer in the study and 
teaching of modern, foreign literature, he was compelled 
to compile his own text-books, collect a library^, and 
stimulate interest in a new field. Endowed naturally 
with a fine faculty for translative work, and equipped 
by training with the knowledge of several languages, 
the young instructor soon won a more than local repu- 
tation. 



INTRODUCTION Xlll 

Marriage In 1831 he married Mary Storer Potter, 

Harvard daughter of Judge Barrett Potter, of Port- 
Appointment land. The two had been schoolmates when 
they were children, but had scarcely seen each other 
since childhood. The next three years were a season of 
great happiness to the young writer. His college life 
was going successfully and the poet looked forward to 
a clearer expression of himself in a more definite form 
than teaching. It was not strange then that he soon 
felt the restrictions of the little college and began to 
look elsewhere. Fortune favored him and threw in 
his way the best offer that could come to him, the 
professorship of Modern Languages at Harvard, a posi- 
tion that was then held by the distinguished historian 
and critic, George Ticknor. Longfellow gladly accepted 
the appointment and also the proposition that he might 
go to Europe for a year or more to study. 

His trip, beginning in April, 1835, was 
marked with great sorrow, for after a year 
in England and Norway and Sweden they crossed to 
Holland, where Mrs. Longfellow died, November 29, 
1835. After one more year in Germany and Switzerland, 
he returned in October, 1836, prepared to enter upon 
his new work at Cambridge. He secured lodgings in 
the famous Craigie House and settled down to the 
routine of academic instruction. The story of Long- 
fellow's going to live in the Craigie House is most 



xiv INTRODUCTION 

interestingly told by George William Curtis, 
Cambridge ^^ ^^^ Homes of American Authors. Thus 

began the period of Longfellow's maturity. 
Well-established in a position of exceptional promi- 
nence, in a community distinguished for its literary 
traditions and ideals, surrounded by a group of friends 
who were inspired by equally lofty motives and pur- 
poses, the professor and poet appeared to be especially 
favored by fortune. 

In 1842 Longfellow made his third visit to Europe, 
spending most of his six months in places on the Rhine. 
In the following July he married Frances Elizabeth 
Appleton ; a happy union, terminated only by the sudden 
and tragic death of the wife in" 1861. 

Perhaps these are the only facts for record in a stretch 
of years which displayed the poet's great calmness and 
faith and which extended his name to all parts of the 
world. Gradually the routine of university work be- 
came more and more * irksome and strengthened his 
determination to relinquish his position that he might 
have all his time for writing. On the last day of 1853 

the poet wrote in his journal: "How^ barren 

of all poetic production and even prose 
production, this last year has been ! For 1853 I have 
absolutely nothing to show. Really there has been 
nothing but the college work." On several occasions 
he had expressed similar sentiments. Consequently 



INTRODUCTION XV 

his resignation of February 16, 1854, was not at all 
unexpected by many of his friends. This gave to the 
poet the leisure which he had long desired, and opened 
a new period in his career. His house became the 
literary centre of America and attracted to its hospi- 
tality prominent authors of America and Europe. 

After the sad death of Mrs. Longfellow 
the poet led a life of great seclusion, scarcely 
leaving his Cambridge house, save for a fourth visit to 
Europe in 1868 and the summers in his cottage at Nahant. 
His remaining years were occupied with his literary 
work, made happier by many honest tributes of praise 
from all the ranks of people of every nation. Then 
was shown the true royalty of the man, never losing 
heart, always full of kindliness to friend and stranger, 
until the end. He died at home March 24, 1882, beloved 
by many thousands in all the countries where simple 
and tender poetry has the power to move. Thus passed 
a life of unusual purity, nobility, and serenity, altogether 
worthy of the great caUing of poet. No star of evil 
fame besmirched that royal face. Criticism had laid 
its stinging finger upon him, but he had maligned none. 
Shortly afterward. Dr. Holmes wrote in the Atlantic 
Monthly, " But it is all too little, for his life was so ex- 
ceptionally sweet and musical that any voice of praise 
sounds almost like a discord after it." 
Though Henry Longfellow will ever be known to 



xvi INTRODUCTION \ 

many as a man and neighbor, to more as an inspiring 
teacher, to the world at large he will always be Long- 
fellow, the poet. As such, fame accords him 
poetry ^^^ rank. His first poem, entitled The 

Battle of LovelVs Pond, appeared in the 
Portland Gazette, November 17, 1820. From that day 
he contributed to various newspapers and periodicals 
a list of poems, noteworthy chiefly as the beginning 
of an illustrious career. 

Immediately after his graduation, he pub- 
^Ni'ght ""^ ^^^ lished a number of pieces, only seven of 
which were afterward included in Voiees of 
the Night, in 1839. These early poems were espe- - 
cially imitative, but they showed the poet's effort at 
rhythm and a sensitiveness to the world of nature 
about him. 

The letter of 1824, above quoted, showed 
in what direction the study, reading, and 
thinking had led the poet. The following years were 
occupied by translations, critical essays and reviews, 
and a few original poems. Significant was an essay 
on The Defence of Poetry (North American Review, 
1832), which insisted that the true greatness of America 
lay in the "extent of mental power, the majesty of its 
intellect, the height and depth and purity of its moral 
nature," and pleaded for a literature that would bear 
the national stamp of American life and American 
nature. 



INTRODUCTION XVll 

With the pubUcation of the Voices of the Night in 
1839, Longfellow began a career as poet which con- 
tinued almost unbroken to the end of his life. 

The complete record of his published works will be 
found in the chronological table on pages xx-xxiii. 



II 

COMMENT ON HIS WORK 

Longfellow has always been the most popu- 
Popuianty ^^^ ^^^ widely known of American poets. 

Something of the universality of his fame may be recog- 
nized by turning to Mr. Higginson's Life of the poet 
and observing the translations of his poems into 
various languages, and also other evidence which he 
gives in the same volume. To define the characteris- 
tics of a writer whose poems are household words, 
whose subjects and characters come before us at the 
mention of the poet's name, proposes for the critic a 
difficult task. And yet there is well-nigh unanimous 
judgment in regard to certain of the characteristics of 
the poet. 

Longfellow's feeling for nature was genu- 
Feeiingfor -^^ ^^^ sincere. He loved the out-of-doors 

nature 

and liked to bring into his poetry pictures 
of the nature ever dear to him from those youthful 



xviii INTRODUCTION 

days spent in Deering's Woods. Every page holds 
figures or passages descriptive of the world without, 
— in the spring, in autumn, in rain, in the heavy foliage 
of the summer, or in the snows of winter. Great is the 
range of subject, and yet we do not look to Long- 
fellow's poetry for an individual interpretation of 
nature. It is always the same calm, serene, tender, 
and melancholy world, with none of those glimpses 
into mystery or reaches into sublimity. 
The D et f Most of all is Longfellow to be remembered 
everyday as the poet of everyday life. Such poems as 
^ ® The Village Blacksmith mirror the scenes 

of common day and surround them with a halo of ideal- 
ization. A simple strain of moralizing runs through his 
pictures, and finds its path to the heart of every race. 
With all their triteness and conventional moralizing, 
with their lack of profound and individual thinking, 
such poems as A Psabn of Life, The Reaper and 
the Flowers, Excelsior, The Day is Done, and a score of 
others, will make their appeal because of the natural 
and graceful rhythm, their simple themes, and the note 
of hopeful courage that lifts the tired soul out of the 
depths of discouragement. 

Longfellow was preeminently a translator. 

Living in a time when only a half-dozen in 

America knew of the great writers of modern literature, 

he eagerly sought to lay those riches before his country- 



INTRODUCTION xix 

men. Many a little poem has been rescued by him from 

an unworthy setting and made to shine with a new 

lustre. From the little pieces of translation of obscure 

writers to his superb translation of Dante's Divine 

Comedy, his career as a translator would alone have 

secured distinction. As it happened, that was but one 

of his many activities. Perhaps his own work suffered 

appreciably in local color and individuality for this 

reason, that the poet was so much at home with all the 

literatures of modern Europe. 

Longfellow may be called the most versa- 
Versatility , ., c * . , • i • 

tile 01 our American poets, at least m his 

use of poetic forms. He tried the various kinds of lyric 

and has scarcely been excelled in the sonnet and in 

the lyric of simple feeling, as Driftwood, Resignation, 

and Sandalphon. He wrote parts of several dramas, 

none of which, however, attested the real dramatic 

power of their author. Finally, he essayed the epic, 

in the Tales of a Wayside Inn and in the three poems 

which will be known perhaps longest of all his works, 

Evangeline, Hiawatha, and The Courtship of Miles 

Standish. In these three pieces the Indian romance, 

the early pastoral and colonial romance, Longfellow 

has probably come nearest to writing poetry which may 

be called truly American. 



XX 



INTRODUCTION 



III 



CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE 



Longfellow, 1807-1882. 
1807. Birth. 



1821. Entered Bowdoin. 



1825. Graduated from Bowdoiu. 

Received appointment at 
Bowdoin. 
1S2G. First poems. 

Went to Europe. 
1827. In Spain. 



1828. In Italy. 



1820. Returned to America, pro- 
fessor at Bowdoin. 
1831. Married Mary Storer Potter. 



Outline of American Litera- 
ture, 1807-1880. 

1807. Salmagundi publislied (first 
series). 

1809. Knickerbocker' s History 

publislied. 
1815. North American Review 

founded. 
1817. Bryant's Thanatopsis. 

1810. Irving's Sketch-Book. 
Halleck-Drake's The Croaker 

Papers. 

1820. Cooper's first story — Pre- 

caution. 

1821. Bryant's poems. 
Cooper's Spy. 

1822. Irving's Bracehridge Hall. 

1823. Cooper's The Pilot. 
The Pioneer. 



182G. Cooper's Last of Mohicans. 

1827. Poe's (first volume) Tamer- 

lane and Other Poems. 
Youth's Companion estab- 
lished. 

1828. Hawthorne's first story, 

Fanshaive. 
Webster's Dictionary . 



1831. Whittier's Legends of Ncto 

England. 

1832. Bryant's poems. 



INTRODUCTION 



XXI 



1833. Outre-Mer published. 



1834-185G. Professor of Modern 
Languages at Harvard. 

1835. Abroad. Mrs. Longfellow 

died at Rotterdam. 

1836. In Germany, Switzerland, 

and returned home. 

1837. Moved to Craigie House. 



1830. Vtlces of the Night. 
Iljperion. 



1841. Ballads and Other Poems. 

1842. Abroad six months. 
Poeins on Slavery. 

1843. Spanish Student. 

1845. Poets and Poetry of Europe. 

1846. B-'lfry of Bruges and Other 

Poems. 

1847. KvangeUne. 



1849. Kavanagh — A Tale. 



1850. The Seaside and the Fireside. 



1833. Knickerhockef s Magazine 

founded. 
Poe's MS. found in a Bottle. 

1834. Southern Literary Messen- 

ger established, to which 
Poe contributed. 



1836. Emerson's Nature. 
Holmes's poems. 

1837. Whittier's poems. 
Hawthorne's Tioice-Told 

Tales. 



1840. Dana's Two Years before the 

Mast. 

1841. Emerson's Essays. 



1843. Prescott's History of Mexico. 

1845. Poe's The Raven and Other 

Poems. 

1846. Hawthorne's Mosses f?'om an 

Old Manse. 

1848. Lowell's Bigloio Papers. 
Vision of Sir Launfal. 

1849. Parkman's The California 

and Oregon Trail. 
Thoreau's A Week. 
Ticknor's History of Spanish 

Literature. 

1850. Hawthorne's Scarlet Letter. 



1851. JVie Golden Legend. 



Harper's Magazine estab- 
lished. 
1851. Hawthorne's House of the 
Seven Gahlea. 



XXll 



INTRODUCTION 



1854. Resigned professorship. 

1855. Hiawatha. 



1858. Courtship of Miles Standish. 



18G1. Death of Mrs. Longfellow. 



1867. Translation of Dante's Divine 

Comedy. 
Floioer-de-Luce. 

1868. Fourth trip to Europe. 



1871. Divine Tragedy. 



1852. Stowe's Uncle Tom's 
Cabin. 

1854. Thoreau's Walden. 

1855. Whitman's Leaves of Grass. 

1856. Motley's Rise of Dutch Re- 

public. 

1857. Atlantic Mo7ithl;/ estahWshed. 

1858. Holmes's Autocrat of the 

Breakfast Table. 

1860. Hawthorne's Marble Faun. 
Emerson's Conduct of Life. 

1861. Mrs. Howe's Battle Hymn 

of the Republic. 

1865. Lowell's C'^mmemoration 

Ode. Whitman's Drum- 
Taps. 

1866. Whittier's Suow-Bound. 



1868. Hale's The Man without a 

Country. 
Alcott's Little Women. 

1869. Aldrich's Story of a Bad 

Boy. 
Mark Twain's Innocents 
Abroad. 

1870. Lowell's Among my Books. 
Bret Harte's Luck of Roar- 
ing Camp. 

Sci'ibner's Magazine founded 
(became The Century in 
1881). 

1871. Bryant's translation of the 

Odyssey. 

Eggleston's Hoosier School- 
master. 

Burroughs's Wake Robin. 



INTRODUCTION xxiii 

1872. Three Books of Song. 1872. Warner's Backlog Studies. 

1873. Aftermath. 

1875. Masque of Pandora. 

1876. Mark Twain's Tom Saioyer. 
Lanier's poems. 
1878. Keramos. 

1880. Ultima Thule. 1880. Harris's Uncle Remus 

Stories. 

1882. In the Harbor. 
1882. Death. 



IV 



BOOKS FOR CONSULTATION 

Life of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow., with Extracts from his 

Journals and Cor7'espondence. Edited by Samuel Longfellow. 

Ticknor & Co. 3 vols. 
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. By Thomas Wentworth Higgin- 

son. (American Men of Letters Series.) Houghton, Mifflin, 

& Co. 
Longfellow (Beacon Biographies). G. R. Carpenter. 
Poets of America. E. C. Stedman. 
Literary and Social Essays. G. W. Curtis. 
American Literatiire., Vol. IT. C. F. Richardson. 
Literary Friends and Acquaintance. W. D. Howells. 
A Literary History of America. Barrett Wendell. 
The best edition of Longfellow's works is The Biverside in eleven 

volumes. The best single volume is The Cambridge edition. 

Both are published by Houghton, Mifflin, «fe Co. 
Chronological Outlines of American Literature. S. L. Whitcomb. 



XXIV INTRODUCTION 

V 

SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 

The selections contained in the present volume will 
be found to include a very representative part of Long- 
fellow's poems from the first volume to the publication 
of "The Wayside Inn." Therefore, we have here 
sufficient material for a careful study of the forms and 
manner of the poet. 

First of all, poetry is written to be read and under- 
stood. We should, therefore, not be content till we 
have read through the poem and have derived the 
general meaning and as much as possible of the signi- 
fication of every word and phrase. Above all, poetry 
is written for pleasure in the highest sense. So we 
should not be diverted from the beauty of the melody 
and the truth of theme by the analysis of words or a 
research into the allusions mentioned. 

After the poems have been comprehended individually, 
they will fall naturally into certain groups, according to 
the point of view from which they are regarded. The 
following divisions may be suggestive of others: — 

(1) Poems contributing to the poeVs biography. — Foot- 
steps of Angels, To the River Charles, Resignation, The 
Two Angels, My Lost Youth, The Old Clock on the 
Stairs. 



INTRODUCTION xxv 

(2) E'pic and lyric. — Under the term epic may be 
included the romance of Miles Standish, the stirring 
ballads of The Wreck of the Hesperus, The Skeleton in 
Armor, and the idyl of The Village Blacksmith. The 
lyric will embrace the sonnets to Autumn and to Dante, 
the ode on The Building of the Ship and such reflective 
poems as The Psalm of Life, The Day is Done, San- 
dalphon, Resignation, Fire of Driftwood, and many 
others. 

(For a study of the structure of poetry see C. F. 
Johnson's Forms of English Poetry, American Book 
Company. For the particular study of the ballad, 
see W. D. Armes's Old English Ballads, Pocket Classic 
Series, The Macmillan Company.) 

(3) The metrical structure of the poem. The Courtship 
of Miles Standish in dactylic hexameter, the sonnet, 
the ballad stanza, the irregular stanzas of Seaweed and 
Building of the Ship, the refrains, and the common 
three, four, five, and six lined stanzas. (See R. M. 
Alden's English Verse. Henry Holt & Co.) 

(4) The central theme. — The comforting power of 
nature, as in Sunrise on the Hills, Spirit of Poetry; 
hopeful courage, Psalm of Life, Light of Stars, Ex- 
celsior; the value of every day. Building of the Ship, 
Village Blacksmith, Ladder of Saint Augustine, Santa 
Filomena; the true religious trust in God, Footsteps of 
Angels, The Reaper and the Flowers; one's regard for 



XXVI INTRODUCTION 

one's own work, Prometheus and Epimetheus; love and 
friendship, The Golden Mile-Stone, Children. 

The object of the study of poetry is at least twofold : 

(a) Appreciation of the truth which the poet wishes 
to convey. 

(6) Appreciation of the way in which he conveys 
that truth. 

Whatever will encourage this appreciation should be 
commended; whatever does not, should be rejected. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MH.ES STANDISH 
AND MINOR POEMS 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 

I 

MILES STANDISH^ 

In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the 
Pilgrims, 

To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwell- 
ing,° 

Clad in doublet° and hose, and boots of Cordovan° 
leather, 

Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan 
Captain. 

Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind 
him, and pausing 5 

Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of war- 
fare, 

Hanging in shining array along the walls of the cham- 
ber, — 

Cutlass and corselet ° of steel, and his trusty sword of 
Damascus, ° 

Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical 
Arabic sentence. 

While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, ° 
musket, and matchlock. ° lo 

Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic. 

Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and 
sinews of iron; 

B 1 



2 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 

Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was 
already 

Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in 
November. 

Near him was seated John Alden,° his friend and house- 
hold companion, iS 

Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine b}^ the 
window ; 

Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complex- 
ion. 

Having the dew of his youth, and the beauty thereof, 
as the captives 

Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, ''Not An- 
gles but Angels. "° 

Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the 
Mayflower. 20 

Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe 

interrupting. 
Spake, in the pride of his heart. Miles Standish the 

Captain of Plymouth. 
''Look at these arms," he said, "the warlike weapons 

that hang here 
Burnished and bright and clean, as if for parade or 

inspection ! 
This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flan- 

ders°; this breastplate, 25 

Well I remember the day ! once saved my life in a skir- 
mish ; 
Here in front you can see the very dint of the bullet 
Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish arcabucero.° 
Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of 

Miles Standish 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 3 

Would at this moment be mould, in their grave in the 

Flemish morasses." 30 

Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked not up 

from his writing: 
''Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed 

of the bullet; 
He in his mercy preserved you, to be our shield and our 

w^eapon ! " 
Still the Captain" continued, unheeding the words of 

the stripling: 
"See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal 

hanging; 35 

That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to 

others. 
Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent 

adage ; 
So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your 

inkhorn. 
Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible 

army. 
Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his 

matchlock, 40 

Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet and pil- 
lage. 
And, like Caesar, I know the name of each of my soldiers ! " 
This he said with a smile, that danced in his eyes, as the 

sunbeams 
Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish again in a 

moment. 
Alden laughed as he wrote, and still the Captain con- 
tinued : 45 
" Look ! you can see from this window my brazen how- 

itzer° planted 



4 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 

High on the roof of the church, a preacher who speaks 

to the purpose, 
Steady, straightforward, and strong, with irresistible 

logic, 
Orthodox, flashing conviction right into the hearts of 

the heathen. 
Now w^e are ready, I think, for any assault of the 

Indians : so 

Let them come, if they like, and the sooner they try it 

the better, — 
Let them come if they like, be it sagamore, sachem, or 

pow-wow,° 
Aspinet, Samoset, Corbitant, Squanto, or Tokamaha- 

mon° !" 

Long at the window he stood, and wistfully gazed on 
the landscape, 

Washed with a cold gray mist, the vapory breath of the 
east-wind, 55 

Forest and meadow and hill, and the steel-blue rim of the 
ocean. 

Lying silent and sad, in the afternoon shadows and sun- 
shine. 

Over his countenance flitted a shadow like those on the 
landscape. 

Gloom intermingled with light; and his voice was sub- 
dued with emotion, 

Tenderness, pity, regret, as after a pause he pro- 
ceeded : 60 

"Yonder there, on the hill by the sea, lies buried Rose 
Standish°; 

Beautiful rose of love, that bloomed for me by the way- 
side ! 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH O 

She was the first to die of all who came in the May- 
flower ! 

Green above her is growing the field of wheat we have 
sown there, 

Better to hide from the Indian scouts the graves of our 
people, 65 

Lest they should count them and see how many already 
have perished !" 

Sadly his face he averted, and strode up and down, and 
was thoughtful. 

Fixed to the opposite wall was a shelf of books, and 
among them 

Prominent three, distinguished alike for bulk and for 
binding ; 

Barriffe's Artillery Guide, ° and the Commentaries of 
Csesar, 70 

Out of the Latin translated by Arthur Goldinge of Lon- 
don,° 

And, as if guarded by these, between them was stand- 
ing the Bible. 

Musing a moment before them. Miles Standish paused, 
as if doubtful 

Which of the three he should choose for his consolation 
and comfort, 

Whether the wars of the Hebrews, the famous campaigns 
of the Romans, 75 

Or the Artillery practice, designed for belligerent Chris- 
tians. 

Finally down from its shelf he dragged the ponderous 
Roman, 

Seated himself at the window, and opened the book, and 
in silence 



6 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 

Turned o'er the well-worn leaves, where thumb-marks 
thick on the margin, 

Like the trample of feet, proclaimed the battle was hot- 
test. 80 

Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of 
the stripling, 

Busily writing epistles important, to go by the May- 
flower, 

Ready to sail on the morrow, ° or next day at latest, 
God willing ! 

Homeward bound with the tidings of all that terrible 
winter. 

Letters written by Alden, and full of the name of Pris- 
cilla,° 85 

Full of the name and the fame of the Puritan maiden 
Priscilla ! 

II 

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP 

Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of 

the stripling, 
Or an occasional sigh from the laboring heart of the 

Captain, 
Reading the marvellous words and achievements of 

Julius Caesar. 
After a while he exclaimed, as he smote with his hand, 

palm downwards, 90 

Heavily on the page : " A wonderful man was this Csesar ! 
You are a writer, and I am a fighter, but here is a fellow 
Who could both write and fight, and in both was equally 

skilful!" 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 7 

Straightway answered and spake John Alden, the comely, 
the youthful : 

"Yes, he was equally skilled, as you say, with his pen 
and his weapons. 95 

Somewhere have I read, but where I forget, he could 
dictate 

Seven letters at once, at the same time writing his 
memoirs." 

"Truly," continued the Captain, not heeding or hear- 
^ ing the other, 
/"Truly a wonderful man was Caius Julius Caesar ° ! 

Better be first, he said, in a little Iberian village, 100 

Than be second in Rome, and I think he was right when 
he said it. 
f Twice was he married before he was twenty, and many 
times after; 

Battles five hundred he fought, and a thousand cities 
he conquered ; 

He, too, fought in Flanders, as he himself has recorded; 

Finally he was stabbed by his friend, the orator Bru- 
tus ! 105 

Now, do you know what he did on a certain occasion in 
Flanders, 

When the rear-guard of his army retreated, the front 
giving way too, 

And the immortal Twelfth Legion was crowded so closely 
together 

There was no room for their swords? Why, he seized 
a shield from a soldier. 

Put himself straight at the head of his troops, and com- 
manded the captains, no 

Calling on each by his name, to order forward the en- 
signs ; 



8 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 

Then to widen the ranks, and give more room for their 

weapons ; 
So he won the day, the battle of something-or-other. 
That's what I ahvays say ; if you wish a thing to be well 

done, 
You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to 

others!'' 115 

All was silent again ; the Captain continued his read- 
ing. 

Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen 
of the stripling 

Writing epistles important to go next day by the May- 
flower, 

Filled with the name and the fame of the Puritan 
maiden Priscilla ; 

Every sentence began or closed with the name of Pris- 
cilla, 120 

Till the treacherous pen, to which he confided the secret. 

Strove to betray it by singing and shouting the name of 
Priscilla ! 

Finally closing his book, with a bang of the ponderous 
cover, 

Sudden and loud as the sound of a soldier grounding his 
musket, 

Thus to the young man spake Miles Standish the Cap- 
tain of Plymouth : 125 

"When you have finished your work, I have something 
important to tell you. 

Be not however in haste ; I can w^ait ; I shall not be im- 
patient !" 

Straightway Alden replied, as he folded the last of his 
letters, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 9 

Pushing his papers aside, and giving respectful atten- 
tion: 

" Speak ; for whenever you speak, I am always ready to 
listen, 130 

Always ready to hear whatever pertains to Miles Stand- 

ISil. 

Thereupon answered the Captain, embarrassed, and cull- 
ing his phrases: 
" 'Tis not good for a man to be alone, say the Scriptures. ° 
This I have said before, and again and again I repeat 

Every hour in the day, I think it, and feel it, and say it. 

Since Rose Standish died, my life has been weary and 
dreary ; 136 

Sick at heart have I been, beyond the healing of friend- 
ship. 

Oft in my lonely hours have I thought of the maiden 
Priscilla. 

She is alone in the world; her father and mother and 
brother^ 

Died in the winter together; I saw her going and com- 
ing, 140 

Now to the grave of the dead, and now to the bed of the 
dying, 

Patient, courageous, and strong, and said to myself, 
that if ever 

There were angels on earth, as there are angels in heaven. 

Two have I seen and known ; and the angel whose name 
is Priscilla 

Holds in my desolate life the place which the other aban- 
doned. 145 

Long have I cherished the thought, but never have dared 
to reveal it, 



10 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 

Being a coward in this, though vahant enough for the 

most part. 
Go to the damsel Priscilla, the loveHest maiden of Plym- 
outh, 
Say that a blunt old Captain, a man not of words but 

of actions, 
Offers his hand and his heart, the hand and heart of a 

soldier. 150 

Not in these words, you know, but this in short is my 

meaning ; 
I am a maker of war, and not a maker of phrases. 
You, who are bred as a scholar, can say it in elegant 

language, 
Such as you read in your books of the pleadings and 

wooings of lovers. 
Such as you think best adapted to win the heart of a 

maiden." 155 

When he had spoken, John Alden, the fair-haired, 

taciturn stripling. 
All aghast at his words, surprised, embarrassed, bewil- 
dered. 
Trying to mask his dismay by treating the subject with 

lightness. 
Trying to smile, and yet feeling his heart stand still in 

his bosom, 
Just as a timepiece stops in a house that is stricken by 

lightning, 160 

Thus made answer and spake, or rather stammered than 

answered : 
" Such a message as that, I am sure I should mangle and 

mar it; 
If you would have it well done, — - 1 am only repeating 

your maxim, — 

\ 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 11 

You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others !" 

But with the air of a man whom nothing can turn from 
his purpose, 165 

Gravely shaking his head, made answer the Captain of 
Plymouth : 

"Truly the maxim is good, and I do not mean to gain- 
say it; 

But we must use it discreetly, and not waste powder for 
nothing. 

Now, as I said before, I was never a maker of phrases. 

I can march up to a fortress and summon the place to 
surrender, 170 

But march up to a woman with such a proposal, I dare not. 

I'm not afraid of bullets, nor shot from the mouth of a 
cannon, 

But of a thundering ' No ! ' point-blank from the mouth 
of a woman. 

That I confess I'm afraid of, nor am I ashamed to con- 
fess it ! 

So you must grant my request, for you are an elegant 
scholar, 175 

Having the graces of speech, and skill in the turning of 
phrases." 

Taking the hand of his friend, who still was reluctant 
and doubtful. 

Holding it long in his own, and pressing it kindly, he 
added : 

" Though I have spoken thus lightly, yet deep is the feel- 
ing that prompts me; 

Surely you cannot refuse what I ask in the name of our 
friendship!" 180 

Then made answer John Alden: "The name of friend- 
ship is sacred; 



12 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 

What you demand in that name, I have not the power to 

deny you !" 
So the strong will prevailed, subduing and moulding the 

gentler. 
Friendship prevailed over love, and Alden went on his 

errand. 

Ill 

THE lover's errand 

vSo the strong will prevailed, and Alden went on his 
errand, 185 

Out of the street of the village, and into the paths of 
the forest. 

Into the tranquil woods, where bluebirds and robins 
were building 

Towns in the populous trees, with hanging gardens of 
verdure. 

Peaceful, aerial cities of joy and affection and freedom. 

All around him was calm, but within him commotion 
and conflict, 190 

Love contending with friendship, and self with each 
generous impulse. 

To and fro in his breast his thoughts were heaving and 
dashing. 

As in a foundering ship, with every roll of the vessel. 

Washes the bitter sea, the merciless surge of the ocean ! 

" Must I relinquish it all," he cried with a wild lamen- 
tation, 195 

" Must I relinquish it all, the joy, the hope, the illusion ? 

Was it for this I have loved, and waited, and worshipped 
in silence ? 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 13 

Was it for this I have followed the flying feet and the 

shadow 
Over the wintry sea, to the desolate shores of New Eng- 
land? 
Truly the heart is deceitful, and out of its depths of 

corruption 200 

Rise, like an exhalation, the misty phantoms of passion; 
Angels of light they seem, but are only delusions of 

Satan. 
All is clear to me now; I feel it, I see it distinctly ! 
This is the hand of the Lord ; it is laid upon me in anger. 
For I have followed too much the heart's desires and 

devices, 205 

Worshipping Astaroth° blindly, and impious idols of 

Baal.° 
This is the cross I must bear; the sin and the swift 

retribution." 

So through the Plymouth woods John Alden went on 

his errand; 
Crossing the brook at the ford, where it brawled over 

pebble and shallow, 
Gathering still as he went, the Mayflowers^ blooming 

around him, 210 

Fragrant, filling the air with a strange and wonderful 

sweetness, 
Children lost in the woods, and covered with leaves in 

their slumber. ° 
"Puritan flowers," he said, "and the type of Puritan 

maidens. 
Modest and simple and sweet, the very type of Priscilla ! 
So I will take them to her; to Priscilla the Mayflower 

of Plymouth, 215 



14 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 

Modest and simple and sweet, as a parting gift will I 
take them; 

Breathing their silent farewells, as they fade and wither 
and perish, 

Soon to be thrown away as is the heart of the giver." 

So through the Plymouth woods John Alden went on his 
errand ; 

Came to an open space, and saw the disk of the ocean, 220 

Sailless, sombre and cold with the comfortless breath of 
the east-wind ; 

Saw the new-built house, and people at work in a meadow ; 

Heard, as he drew near the door, the musical voice of 
Priscilla 

Singing the hundredth Psalm, the grand old Puritan 
anthem,° 

Music that Luther ° sang to the sacred words of the 
Psalmist, 225 

Full of the breath of the Lord, consoling and comfort- 
ing many. 

Then, as he opened the door, he beheld the form of the 
maiden 

Seated beside her wheel, and the carded wool like a 
snow-drift 

Piled at her knee, her white hands feeding the raven- 
ous spindle. 

While with her foot on the treadle she guided the wheel 
in its motion. 230 

Open wide on her lap lay the well-worn psalm-book of 
Ainsworth,° 

Printed in Amsterdam, the words and the music to- 
gether. 

Rough-hewn, angular notes, like stones in the wall of 
a churchyard, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 15 

Darkened and overhung by the running vine of the 

verses. 
Such was the book from whose pages she sang the old 

Puritan anthem, 235 

She, the Puritan girl, in the solitude of the forest, 
Making the humble house and the modest apparel of 

homespun 
Beautiful with her beauty, and rich with the wealth of 

her being ! 
Over him rushed, like a wind that is keen and cold 

and relentless. 
Thoughts of what might have been, and the weight and 

woe of his errand ; 240 

All the dreams that had faded, and all the hopes that had 

vanished, 
All his life henceforth a dreary and tenantless mansion, 
Haunted by vain regrets, and pallid, sorrowful faces. 
Still he said to himself, and almost fiercely he said it, 
"Let not him that putteth his hand to the plough look 

backwards°; 245 

Though the ploughshare cut through the flowers of life 

to its fountains. 
Though it pass o'er the graves of the dead and the hearts 

of the living, 
It is the will of the Lord; and his mercy endureth for- 
ever !" 

So he entered the house; and the hum of the wheel 

and the singing 
Suddenly ceased; for Priscilla, aroused by his step on 

the threshold, 250 

Rose as he entered and gave him her hand, in signal of 

welcome, 



14 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 

Modest and simple and sweet, as a parting gift will I 
take them; 

Breathing their silent farewells, as they fade and wither 
and perish. 

Soon to be thrown away as is the heart of the giver." 

So through the Plymouth woods John Alden went on his 
errand ; 

Came to an open space, and saw the disk of the ocean, 220 

Sailless, sombre and cold with the comfortless breath of 
the east-wind ; 

Saw the new-built house, and people at work in a meadow ; 

Heard, as he drew near the door, the musical voice of 
Priscilla 

Singing the hundredth Psalm, the grand old Puritan 
anthem,° 

Music that Luther° sang to the sacred words of the 
Psalmist, 225 

Full of the breath of the Lord, consoling and comfort- 
ing many. 

Then, as he opened the door, he beheld the form of the 
maiden 

Seated beside her wheel, and the carded wool like a 
snow-drift 

Piled at her knee, her white hands feeding the raven- 
ous spindle, 

While with her foot on the treadle she guided the wheel 
in its motion. 230 

Open wide on her lap lay the well-worn psalm-book of 
Ainsworth,° 

Printed in Amsterdam, the words and the music to- 
gether. 

Rough-hewn, angular notes, like stones in the wall of 
a churchyard; 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 15 

Darkened and overhung by the running vine of the 

verses. 
Such was the book from whose pages she sang the old 

Puritan anthem, 235 

She, the Puritan girl, in the solitude of the forest, 
Making the humble house and the modest apparel of 

homespun 
Beautiful with her beauty, and rich with the wealth of 

her being ! 
Over him rushed, like a wind that is keen and cold 

and relentless, 
Thoughts of what might have been, and the weight and 

woe of his errand ; 240 

All the dreams that had faded, and all the hopes that had 

vanished. 
All his life henceforth a dreary and tenantless mansion, 
Haunted by vain regrets, and pallid, sorrowful faces. 
Still he said to himself, and almost fiercely he said it, 
"Let not him that putteth his hand to the plough look 

backwards°; 245 

Though the ploughshare cut through the flowers of life 

to its fountains. 
Though it pass o'er the graves of the dead and the hearts 

of the living. 
It is the will of the Lord; and his mercy endureth for- 
ever !" 

So he entered the house; and the hum of the wheel 

and the singing 
Suddenly ceased; for Priscilla, aroused by his step on 

the threshold, 250 

Rose as he entered and gave him her hand, in signal of 

welcome, 



in THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAND ISH 

Saying, " I knew it was you, when I heard your step in 

the passage ; 
For I was thinking of you, as I sat there singing and 

spinning." 
Awkward and dumb with dehght, that a thought of him 

had been mingled 
Thus in the sacred psalm, that came from the heart of 

the maiden, 255 

Silent before her he stood, and gave her the flowers for 

an answer. 
Finding no words for his thought. He remembered 

that day in the winter. 
After the first great snow, when he broke a path from 

the village, 
Reeling and plunging along through the drifts that en- 
cumbered the doorway. 
Stamping the snow from his feet as he entered the house, 

and Priscilla 2&0 

Laughed at his snowy locks, and gave, him a seat by the 

fireside. 
Grateful and pleased to know he had thought of her in 

the snow-storm. 
Had he but spoken then ! perhaps not in vain had he 

spoken ; 
Now it was all too late; the golden moment had van- 
ished ! 
So he stood there abashed, and gave her the flowers for 

an answer. 265 

Then they sat down and talked of the birds and the 
beautiful Spring-time ; 
Talked of their friends at home, and the Mayflower that 
sailed on the morrow. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 17 

" I have been thinking all day/' said gently the Puri- 
tan maiden, 

"Dreaming all night, and thinking all day, of the hedge- 
rows of England, —° 

They are in blossom now, and the country is all like a 
garden ; 270 

Thinking of lanes and fields, and the song of the lark and 
the linnet, 

Seeing the village street, and familiar faces of neighbors 

Going about as of old, and stopping to gossip together, 

And, at the end of the street, the village church, with 
the ivy 

Climbing the old gray tow^r, and the quiet graves in 
the churchyard. 275 

Kind are the people I live with, and dear to me my religion ; 

Still my heart is so sad, that I wish myself back in 
Old England. 

You will say it is wrong, but I cannot help it : I almost 

Wish myself back in Old England, I feel so lonely and 
wretched." 

Thereupon answered the youth: "Indeed I do not 

condemn you; 280 

Stouter hearts than a woman's have quailed in this 

terrible winter. 
Yours is tender and trusting, and needs a stronger to 

lean on; 
So I have come to you now, with an offer and proffer 

of marriage 
Made by a good man and true, Miles Standish the 

Captain of Plymouth!" 

Thus he delivered his message, the dexterous writer 
of letters, — 285 

c 



18 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 

Did not embellish the theme, nor array it in beautiful 

phrases, 
But came straight to the point, and blurted it out like 

a school-boy; 
Even the Captain himself could hardly have said it 

more bluntly. 
Mute with amazement and sorrow, Priscilla the Puritan 

maiden 
Looked into Alden's face, her eyes dilated with wonder, 
Feeling his words like a blow, that stunned her and 

rendered her speechless; . 291 

Till at length she exclaimed, interrupting the ominous 

silence : 
"If the great Captain of Plymouth is so very eager to 

wed me. 
Why does he not come himself, and take the trouble 

to woo me? 
If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth 

the winning !" 295 

Then John Alden began explaining and smoothing 

the matter. 
Making it worse as he went, by saying the Captain 

was busy, — 
Had no time for such things ; — such things ! the 

words grating harshly 
Fell on the ear of Priscilla; and swift as a flash she 

made answer: 
"Has he no time for such things, as you call it, before 

he is married, 300 

Would he be likely to find it, or make it, after the 

wedding ? 
That is the way with you men; you dqn't understand ' 

us, you cannot. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 19 

When you have made up your minds, after thinking 
of this one and that one, 

Choosing, selecting, rejecting, comparing one with 
another. 

Then you make known your desire, with abrupt and 
sudden avowal, 305 

And are offended and hurt, and indignant perhaps, 
that a woman 

Does not respond at once to a love that she never sus- 
pected. 

Does not attain at a bound the height to which you 
have been climbing. 

This is not right nor just; for surely a woman's affec- 
tion 

Is not a thing to be asked for, and had for only the 
. asking. 310 

When one is truly in love, one not only says it, but 
shows it. 

Had he but waited awhile, had he only showed that 
he loved me, 

Even this Captain of yours — who knows ? — at last 
might have won me. 

Old and rough as he is; but now it never can hap- 
pen. " 

Still John Alden went on, unheeding the words of 

Priscilla, 315 

Urging the suit of his friend, explaining, persuading, 

expanding ; 
Spoke of his courage and skill, and of all his battles 

in Flanders, 
How with the people of God he had chosen to suffer 

affliction, 



20 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 

How, in return for his zeal, they had made him Cap- 
tain of Plymouth; 

He was a gentleman born, could trace his pedigree 
plainly 320 

Back to Hugh Standish of Duxbury Hall, in Lanca- 
shire, England, ° 

Who was the son of Ralph, and the grandson of Thurs- 
ton de Standish; 

Heir unto vast estates, of which he was basely defrauded. 

Still bore the family arms, and had for his crest a cock 
argent ° 

Combed and wattled gules, ° and all the rest of the 
blazon. 325 

He was a man of honor, of noble and generous nature; 

Though he was rough, he was kindly; she knew how 
during the winter 

He had attended the sick, with a hand as gentle as 
woman's ; 

Somewhat hasty and hot, he could not deny it, and 
headstrong, 

Stern as a soldier might be, but hearty, and placable 
always, ^ 330 

Not to be laughed at and scorned, because he was little 
of stature; 

For he was great of heart, magnanimous, courtly, coura- 
geous ; 

Any woman in Plymouth, nay, any woman in England, 

Might be happy and proud to be called the wife of 
Miles Standish! 

But as he warmed and glowed, in his simple and 

eloquent language, 335 

Quite forgetful of self, and full of the praise of his rival. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 21 

Archly the maiden smiled, and, with eyes overrunning 

with laughter, 
Said, in a tremulous voice, "Why don't you speak for 

yourself, John?" 



IV 

JOHN ALDEN 

Into the open air John Alden, perplexed and bewil- 
dered. 

Rushed like a man insane, and wandered alone by the 
sea-side ; 340 

Paced up and down the sands, and bared his head to 
the east-wind. 

Cooling his heated brow, and the fire and fever within 
him. 

Slowly, as out of the heavens, with apocalyptical splen- 
dors, ° 

Sank the City of God, in the vision of John the Apostle, 

So, with its cloudy walls of chrysolite, jasper, and 
sapphire, 345 

Sank the broad red sun, and over its turrets uplifted 

Glimmered the golden reed of the angel who measured 
the city. 

"Welcome, O wind of the East!" he exclaimed in 

his wild exultation, 
"Welcome, O wind of the East, from the caves of the 

misty Atlantic ! 
Blowing o'er fields of dulse, ° and measureless meadows 

of sea-grass, 350 



22 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 

Blowing o'er rocky wastes, and the grottoes and gardens 

of ocean ! 
Lay thy cold, moist hand on my burning forehead, 

and wrap me 
Close in thy garments of mist, to allay the fever within 

me!" 

Like an awakened conscience, the sea was moaning 

and tossing, 
Beating remorseful and loud the mutable sands of the 

sea-shore. 355 

Fierce in his soul was the struggle and tumult of passions 

contending ; 
Love triumphant and crowned, and friendship wounded 

and bleeding, 
Passionate cries of desire, and importunate pleadings 

of duty ! 
"Is it my fault," he said, "that the maiden has chosen 

between us? 
Is it my fault that he failed, — my fault that I am the 

victor?" 360 

Then within him there thundered a voice, like the voice 

of the Prophet: 
"It hath displeased the Lord!" — and he thought of 

David's transgression, ° 
Bathsheba's beautiful face, and his friend in the front 

of the battle ! 
Shame and confusion of guilt, and abasement and self- 
condemnation, 
Overwhelmed him at once; and he cried in the deepest 

contrition : 365 

" It hath displeased the Lord ! It is the temptation 

of Satan !" 



i 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 23 

Then, uplifting his head, he looked at the sea, and 

beheld there 
Dimly the shadowy form of the Mayflower riding at 

anchor, 
Rocked on the rising tide, and ready to sail on the 

morrow ; 
Heard the voices of men through the mist, the rattle 

of cordage 370 

Thrown on the deck, the shouts of the mate, and the 

sailors' "Ay, ay. Sir!" 
Clear and distinct, but not loud, in the dripping air of 

the twilight. 
Still for a moment he stood, and listened, and stared 

at the vessel. 
Then went hurriedly on, as one who, seeing a phantom, 
Stops, then quickens his pace, and follows the beckon- 
ing shadow. 375 
"Yes, it is plain to me now," he murmured; "the 

hand of the Lord is 
Leading me out of the land of darkness, the bondage 

of error. 
Through the sea, that shall lift the walls of its waters 

around me. 
Hiding me, cutting me off, from the cruel thoughts 

that pursue me. 
Back will I go o'er the ocean, this dreary land will 

abandon, 380 

Her whom I may not love, and him whom my heart 

has offended. 
Better to be in my grave in the green old churchyard 

in England, 
Close by my mother's side, and among the dust of my 

kindred ; 



24 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 

Better be dead and forgotten, than living in shame and 

dishonor ! 
Sacred and safe and unseen, in the dark of the narrow 

chamber 385 

With me my secret shall lie, like a buried jewel that 

glimmers 
Bright on the hand that is dust, in the chambers of 

silence and darkness, — 
Yes, as the marriage ring of the great espousal hereafter ! " 

Thus as he spake, he turned, in the strength of his 

strong resolution. 
Leaving behind him the shore, and hurried along in 

the twilight, 390 

Through the congenial gloom of the forest silent and 

sombre, 
Till he beheld the lights in the seven houses of Plymouth, ° 
Shining like seven stars in the dusk and mist of the 

evening. 
Soon he entered his door, and found the redoubtable 

Captain 
Sitting alone, and absorbed in the martial pages of 

fesar, 395 

Fighting some great campaign in Hainault or Brabant 

or Flanders. 
"Long have you been on your errand," he said with a 

cheery demeanor. 
Even as one who is waiting an answer, and fears not the 

issue. 
"Not far off is the house, although the woods are be- 
tween us; 
But you have lingered so long, that while you were 

going and coming 400 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 25 

I have fought ten battles and sacked and demohshed a 

city. 
Come, sit down, and in order relate to me all that has 

happened. '^ 

Then John Alden spake, and related the wondrous 

adventure 
From beginning to end, minutely, just as it happened; 
How he had seen Priscilla, and how he had sped in his 

courtship, 405 

Only smoothing a little, and softening down her refusal. 
But when he came at length to the w^ords Priscilla had 

spoken. 
Words so tender and cruel, "Why don't you speak 

for yourself, John?" 
Up leaped the Captain of Plymouth, and stamped on 

the floor, till his armor 
Clanged on the wall, where it hung, with a sound of 

sinister omen. 410 

All his pent-up wrath burst forth in a sudden explo- 
sion. 
E'en as a hand-grenade, that scatters destruction 

around it. 
Wildly he shouted, and loud : " John Alden ! you have 

betrayed me ! 
Me, Miles Standish, your friend ! have supplanted, 

defrauded, betrayed me ! 
One of my ancestors ran his sword through the heart 

of Wat Tyler°; 415 

Who shall prevent me from running my own through 

the heart of a traitor? 
Yours is the greater treason, for yours is a treason to 

friendship ! 



2G THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 

You, who lived under my roof, whom I cherished and 
loved as a brother; 

You, who have fed at my board, and drunk at my cup, 
to whose keeping 

I have intrusted my honor, my thoughts the most 
sacred and secret, — 420 

You too, Brutus ! ah, woe to the name of friendship 
hereafter ! 

Brutus was Caesar's friend, and you were mine, but 
henceforward 

Let there be nothing between us save war, and impla- 
cable hatred !" 

So spake the Captain of Plymouth, and strode about 
in the chamber. 

Chafing and choking with rage; like cords were the 
veins on his temples. 425 

But in the midst of his anger a man appeared at the 
doorway. 

Bringing in uttermost haste a message of urgent im- 
portance, 

Rumors of danger and war and hostile incursions of 
Indians ! 

Straightway the Captain paused, and, without further 
question or parley. 

Took from the nail on the wall his sword with its scab- 
bard of iron, 430 

Buckled the belt round his waist, and, frowning fiercely, 
departed. 

Alden was left alone. He heard the clank of the scab- i 
bard 

Growing fainter and fainter, and dying away in the 
distance. I 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 27 

Then he arose from his seat, and looked forth into the 

darkness, 
Felt the cool air blow on his cheek, that was hot with 

the insult, 435 

Lifted his eyes to the heavens, and, folding his hands 

as in childhood. 
Prayed in the silence of night to the Father who seeth 

in secret. 

Meanwhile the choleric Captain strode wrathful 

away to the council. 
Found it already assembled, impatiently waiting his 

coming ; 
Men in the middle of life, austere and grave in deport- 
ment, 440 
Only one of them old, the hill that was nearest to 

heaven. 
Covered with snow, but erect, the excellent Elder of 

Plymouth. ° 
God had sifted three kingdoms to find the wheat for 

this planting, 
Then had sifted the wheat, as the living seed of a 

nation ; 
So. say the chronicles old, and such is the faith of the 

people ! 445 

Near them was standing an Indian, in attitude stern 

and defiant. 
Naked down to the waist, and grim and ferocious in 

aspect ; 
While on the table before them was lying unopened a 

Bible,° 
Ponderous, bound in leather, brass-studded, printed in 

Holland, 



28 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 

And beside it outstretched the skin of a rattlesnake ° 

gUttered, - 450 

Filled, like a quiver, with arrows: a signal and chal- 
lenge of warfare. 
Brought by the Indian, and speaking with arrowy 

tongues of defiance. 
This Miles Standish beheld, as he entered, and heard 

them debating 
What were an answer befitting the hostile message 

and menace, 
Talking of this and of that, contriving, suggesting, 

objecting ; ^ 455 

One voice only for peace, and that the voice of the 

Elder, 
Judging it wise and well that some at least were con- 
verted, 
Rather than any were slain, for this was but Christian 

behavior ! 
Then out spake Miles Standish, the stalwart Captain 

of Plymouth, 
Muttering deep in his throat, for his voice was husky 

with anger, 460 

" What ! do you mean to make war with milk and the 

water of roses? 
Is it to shoot red squirrels you have your howitzer 

planted 
There on the roof of the church, or is it to shoot red 

devils ? 
Truly the only tongue that is understood by a savage 
Must be the tongue of fire that speaks from the mouth 

of the cannon !" 465 

Thereupon answered and said the excellent Elder of 

Plymouth, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 29 

Somewhat amazed and alarmed at this irreverent lan- 
guage : 

"Not so thought Saint Paul, nor yet the other Apos- 
tles; 

Not from the cannon's mouth were the tongues of fire 
they spake with !" 

But unheeded fell this mild rebuke on the Captain, 470 

Who had advanced to the table, and thus continued 
discoursing : 

"Leave this m.atter to me, for to me by right it per- 
taineth. 

War is a terrible trade; but in the cause that is right- 
eous. 

Sweet is the smell of powder; and thus I answer the 
challenge !" 

Then from the rattlesnake's skin, with a sudden, ^ 

contemptuous gesture, 475 

Jerking the Indian arrows, he filled it with powder 

and bullets 
Full to the very jaws, and handed it back to the savage, 
Saying, in thundering tones : " Here, take it ! this is 

your answer !" 
Silently out of the room then glided the glistening 

savage. 
Bearing the serpent's skin, and seeming himself like a 

serpent, 480 

Winding his sinuous way in the dark to the depths of 

the forest. 



30 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 

V 

THE SAILING OF THE MAYFLOWER 

Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists uprose 

from the meadows, 
There was a stir and a sound in the slumbering village 

of Plymouth; ; 

Clanging and clicking of arms, and the order impera- I 

tive, "Forward V^ ; 

Given in tone suppressed, a tramp of feet, and then | 

silence. 485 ! 

Figures ten, in the mist, marched slowly out of the j 

village. ° j 

Standish the stalwart it was, with eight of his valorous 

army. 
Led by their Indian guide, by Hobomok, friend of the 

white men, 1 

Northward marching to quell the sudden revolt of the 

savage. '; 

Giants they seemed in the mist, or the mighty men of j 

King David; 490 j 

Giants in heart they were, who believed in God and the 

Bible, — 
Ay, who believed in the smiting of Midianites and 

Philistines. 
Over them gleamed far off the crimson banners of morn- 
ing; 
Under them loud on the sands, the serried billows, ad- 
vancing. 
Fired along the line, and in regular order retreated. 495 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 31 

Many a mile had they marched, when at length the 

village of Plymouth 
Woke from its sleep, and arose, intent on its manifold 

labors. 
Sweet was the air and soft; and slowly the smoke 

from the chimneys 
Rose over roofs of thatch, and pointed steadily eastward; 
Men came forth from the doors, and paused and talked 

of the weather, 5°° 

Said that the wind had changed, and was blowing fair 

for the Mayflower; 
Talked of their Captain's departure, and all the dangers 

that menaced. 
He being gone, the town, and what should be done in 

his absence. 
Merrily sang the birds, and the tender voices of women 
Consecrated with hymns the common cares of the 

household. 505 

Out of the sea rose the sun, and the billows rejoiced 

at his coming; 
Beautiful were his feet on the purple tops of the moun- 
tains ; 
Beautiful oti the sails of the Mayflower riding at anchor. 
Battered and blackened and worn by all the storms of 

the winter. 
Loosely against her masts was hanging and flapping 

her canvas, 51° 

Rent by so many gales, and patched by the hands of 

the sailors. 
Suddenly from her side, as the sun rose over the ocean, 
Darted a pufT of smoke, and floated seaward ; anon rang 
Loud over field and forest the cannon's roar, and t) c> 

echoes 



32 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 

Heard and repeated the sound, the signal-gun of de- 
parture ! 515 

Ah ! but with louder echoes replied the hearts of the 
people ! 

Meekty, in voices subdued, the chapter was read from 
the Bible, 

Meekly the prayer was begun, but ended in fervent 
entreaty ! 

Then from their houses in haste came forth the Pilgrims 
of Plymouth, 

Men and women and children, all hurrying down to the 
sea-shore, 520 

Eager, with tearful eyes, to say farewell to the May- 
flower, 

Homeward bound o'er the sea, and leaving them here 
in the desert. 

Foremost among them was Alden. All night he had 

lain without slumber, 
Turning and tossing about in the heat and unrest of his 

fever. 
He had beheld Miles Standish, who came back late from 

the council, 525 

Stalking into the room, and heard him mutter and 

murmur, 
Sometimes it seemed a prayer, and sometimes it sounded 

like swearing. 
Once he had come to the bed, and stood there a moment 

in silence; 
Then he had turned away, and said : " I will not awake 

him; 
Let him sleep on, it is best; for what is the use of more 

talking!" 53° 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 33 

Then he extinguished the hght, and threw himself down 
on his pallet, 

Dressed as he was, and ready to start at the break of the 
morning, — 

Covered himself with the cloak he had worn in his cam- 
paigns in Flanders, — 

Slept as a soldier sleeps in his bivouac, ready for action. 

But with the dawn he arose; in the twilight Alden be- 
held him 535 

Put on his corselet of steel, and all the rest of his armor, 

Buckle about his waist his trusty blade of Damascus, 

Take from the corner his musket, and so stride out of the 
chamber. 

Often the heart of the youth had burned and yearned to 
embrace him. 

Often his lips had essayed to speak, imploring for par- 
don, 540 

All the old friendship came back with its tender and 
grateful emotions; 

But his pride overmastered the nobler nature within 
him, — 

Pride, and the sense of his wrong, and the burning fire 
of the insult. 

So he beheld his friend departing in anger, but spake 
not, 

Saw him go forth to danger, perhaps to death, and he 
spake not ! 545 

Then he arose from his bed, and heard what the people 
were saying. 

Joined in the talk at the door, with Stephen and Richard 
and Gilbert, ° 

Joined in the morning prayer, and in the reading of 
Scripture, 

D 



34 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 

And, with the others, in haste went hurrying down to 

the sea-shore, 
Down to the Plymouth Rock, that had been to their 

feet as a doorstep 550 

Into a world unknown, — the corner-stone of a nation ! 

There with his boat was the Master, ° already a little 

impatient 
Lest he should lose the tide, or the wind might shift to 

the eastward, 
Square-built, hearty, and strong, with an odor of ocean 

about him. 
Speaking with this one and that, and cramming letters 

and parcels 555 

Into his pockets capacious, and messages mingled to- 
gether 
Into his narrow brain, till at last he was wholly bewildered. 
Nearer the boat stood Alden, with one foot placed on 

the gunwale, ° 
One still firm on the rock, and talking at times with the 

sailors, 
Seated erect on the thwarts, ° all ready and eager for start- 
ing. 560 
He too was eager to go, and thus put an end to his 

anguish. 
Thinking to fly from despair, that swifter than keel is 

or canvas, 
Thinking to drown in the sea the ghost that would rise 

and pursue him. 
But as he gazed on the crowd, he beheld the form of 

Priscilla 
Standing dejected among them, unconscious of all that 

was passing. 565 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 35 

Fixed were her eyes upon his, as if she divined his inten- 
tion, 

Fixed with a look so sad, so reproachful, imploring, and 
patient. 

That with a sudden revulsion his heart recoiled from its 
purpose. 

As from the verge of a crag, where one step more is 
destruction. 

Strange is the heart of man, with its quick, mysterious 
instincts ! 570 

Strange is the life of man, and fatal or fated are moments, 

Whereupon turn, as on hinges, the gates of the wall ada- 
mantine ! 

"Here I remain!" he exclaimed, as he looked at the 
heavens above him. 

Thanking the Lord whose breath had scattered the mist 
and the madness, 

Wherein, blind and lost, to death he was staggering head- 
long. 575 

" Yonder snow-white cloud, that floats in the ether above 
me, 

Seems like a hand that is pointing and beckoning over 
the ocean. 

There is another hand, that is not so spectral and ghost- 
like. 

Holding me, drawing me back, and clasping mine for 
protection. 

Float, O hand of cloud, and vanish away in the ether ! 580 

Roll thyself up like a fist, to threaten and daunt me; I 
heed not 

Either your warning or menace, or any omen of evil ! 

There is no land so sacred, no air so pure and so whole- 
some, 



36 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 

As is the air she breathes, and the soil that is pressed by 
her footsteps. 

Here for her sake will I stay, and like an invisible pres- 
ence 585 

Hover around her forever, protecting, supporting her 
weakness ; 

Yes ! as my foot was the first that stepped on this rock 
at the landing. 

So, with the blessing of God, shall it be the last at the 
leaving !" 

Meanwhile the Master alert, but with dignified air and 

important, 
Scanning with watchful eye the tide and the wind and 

the weather, 590 

Walked about on the sands, and the people crowded 

around him 
Saying a few last words, and enforcing his careful re- 
membrance. 
Then, taking each by the hand, as if he were grasping a 

tiller. 
Into the boat he sprang, and in haste shoved off to his 

vessel. 
Glad in his heart to get rid of all this worry and flurry, 595 
Glad to be gone from a land of sand and sickness and 

sorrow, 
Short allowance of victual, and plenty of nothing but 

Gospel ! 
Lost in the sound of the oars was the last farewell of the 

Pilgrims. 
O strong hearts and true ! not one went back in the 

Mayflower° ! 
No, not one looked back, who had set his hand to this 

ploughing ! 600 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 37 

Soon were heard on board the shouts and songs of the 
sailors 

Heaving the windlass round, and hoisting the ponderous 
anchor. 

Then the yards were braced, and all sails set to the west- 
wind, 

Blowing steady and strong; and the Mayflower sailed 
from the harbor, 

Rounded the point of the Gurnet, and leaving far to the 
southward 605 

Island and cape of sand, and the Field of the First En- 
counter, ° 

Took the wind on her quarter, and stood for the open 
Atlantic, 

Borne on the send of the sea, and the swelling hearts of 
the Pilgrims. 

Long in silence they watched the receding sail of the 

vessel. 
Much endeared to them all, as something living and 

human ; 610 

Then, as if filled with the spirit, and wrapt in a vision 

prophetic. 
Baring his hoary head, the excellent Elder of Plym- 
outh 
Said, "Let us pray!" and they prayed, and thanked 

the Lord and took courage. 
Mournfully sobbed the waves at the base of the rock, 

and above them 
Bowed and whispered the wheat on the hill of death, 

and their kindred 615 

Seemed to awake in their graves, and to join in the prayer 

that they uttered. 



38 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 

Sun-illumined and white, on the eastern verge of the 

ocean 
Gleamed the departing sail, like a marble slab in a grave- 
yard; i 
Buried beneath it lay forever all hope of escaping. ' 
Lo ! as they turned to depart, they saw the form of an 

Indian, 620 

Watching them from the hill ; but while they spake with 

each other. 
Pointing with outstretched hands, and saying, "Look!" ; 

he had vanished. 
So they returned to their homes; but Alden lingered a 

little, . ; 

Musing alone on the shore, and watching the wash of 

the billows 
Round the base of the rock, and the sparkle and flash 

of the sunshine, 625 

Like the spirit of God, moving visibly over the waters. ; 



VI 

PRISCILLA 

Thus for a while he stood, and mused by the shore of 
the ocean. 

Thinking of many things, and most of all of Priscilla; 

And as if thought had the power to draw to itself, like 
the loadstone, 

Whatsoever it touches, by subtile laws of its nature, 630 

Lo ! as he turned to depart, Priscilla was standing be- 
side him. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 39 

"Are you so much offended, you will not speak to 

me?'' said she. 
"Am I so much to blame, that yesterday, when you 

were pleading 
Warmly the cause of another, my heart, impulsive and 

wayward. 
Pleaded your own, and spake out, forgetful perhaps of 

decorum ? 635 

Certainly you can forgive me for speaking so frankly, 

for saying 
What I ought not to have said, yet now I can never 

unsay it; 
For there are moments in life, when the heart is so full 

of emotion, 
That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a 

pebble 
Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its se- 
cret, 640 
Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered 

together. 
Yesterday I was shocked, when I heard you speak of 

Miles Standish, 
Praising his virtues, transforming his very defects into 

virtues. 
Praising his courage and strength, and even his fighting 

in Flanders, 
As if by fighting alone you could win the heart of a 

woman, 645 

Quite overlooking yourself and the rest, in exalting your 

hero. 
Therefore I spake as I did, by an irresistible impulse. 
You will forgive me, I hope, for the sake of the friend- 
ship between us, 



40 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 

Which is too true and too sacred to be so easily broken V 
Thereupon answered John Alden, the scholar, the friend 

of Miles Standish : 650 

"I was not angry with you, with myself alone I was 

. angry, 
Seeing how badly I managed the matter I had in my 

keeping." 
" No !" interrupted the maiden, with answer prompt and 

decisive ; 
" No ; you were angry with me, for speaking so frankly 

and freely. 
It was wrong, I acknowledge; for it is the fate of a 

woman 655 

Long to be patient and silent, to wait like a ghost that 

is speechless, 
Till some questioning voice dissolves the spell of its si- 
lence. 
Hence is the inner life of so many suffering women 
Sunless and silent and deep, like subterranean rivers 
Running through caverns of darkness, unheard, unseen, 

and unfruitful, 660 

Chafing their channels of stone, with endless and profit- 
less murmurs." 
Thereupon answered John Alden, the young man, the 

lover of women : 
"Heaven forbid it, Priscilla; and truly they seem to me 

always 
More like the beautiful rivers that watered the garden 

of Eden,° 
More like the river Euphrates, through deserts of Havi- 

lah flowing, 665 

Filling the land with delight, and memories sweet of the 

garden !" 



ii 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 41 

"Ah, by these words, I can see," again interrupted the 

maiden, 
''How very little you prize me, or care for what I am 

saying. 
When from the depths of my heart, in pain and with 

secret misgiving, 
Frankly I speak to you, asking for sympathy only and 

kindness, 670 

Straightway you take up my words, that are plain and 

direct and in earnest. 
Turn them away from their meaning, and answer with 

flattering phrases. 
This is not right, is not just, is not true to the best that 

is in you; 
For I know and esteem you, and feel that your nature is 

noble, 
Lifting mine up to a higher, a more ethereal level. 675 
Therefore I value your friendship, and feel it perhaps the 

more keenly 
If you say aught that implies I am only as one among 

many. 
If you make use of those common and complimentary 

phrases 
Most men think so fine, in dealing and speaking with 

women, 
But which women reject as insipid, if not as insulting." 680 

Mute and amazed was Alden ; and listened and looked 

at Priscilla, 
Thinking he never had seen her more fair, more divine 

in her beauty. 
He who but yesterday pleaded so glibly the cause of 

another, 



42 ' THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 

Stood there embarrassed and silent, and seeking in vain 

for an answer. 
So the maiden went on, and httle divined or imagined 685 
What was at work in his heart, that made him so awk- 

w^ard and speechless. 
" Let us, then, be what we are, and speak what we think, 

and in all things 
Keep ourselves loyal to truth, and the sacred profes- 
sions of friendship. 
It is no secret I tell you, nor am I ashamed to declare it": 
I have liked to be with you, to see you, to speak with 

you always. 690 

So I was hurt at your words, and a little affronted to 

hear you 
Urge me to marry your friend, though he were the Cap- 
tain Miles Standish. 
For I must tell you the truth : much more to me is your 

friendship 
Than all the love he could give, were he twice the hero 

you think him." 
Then she extended her hand, and Alden, who eagerly 

grasped it, 695 

Felt all the wounds in his heart, that were aching and 

bleeding so sorely. 
Healed by the touch of that hand, and he said, with a 

voice full of feeling : 
"Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you 

friendship 
Let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest and 

dearest !" 

Casting a farewell look at the glimmering sail of the 
Mayflower 700 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 43 

Distant, but still in sight, and sinking below the hori- 
zon, 

Homeward together they walked, with a strange, indefi- 
nite feeling. 

That all the rest had departed and left them alone in the 
desert. 

But, as they went through the fields in the blessing and 
smile of the sunshine. 

Lighter grew their hearts, and Priscilla said very 
archly : 705 

" Now that our terrible Captain has gone in pursuit of 
the Indians, 

Where he is happier far than he would be commanding 
a household, 

You may speak boldly, and tell me of all that happened 
between you. 

When you returned last night, and said how ungrateful 
you found me." 

Thereupon answered John Alden, and told her the whole 
of the story, — 710 

Told her his own despair, and the direful wrath of Miles 
Standish. 

Whereat the maiden smiled, and said between laughing 
and earnest, 

"He is a Uttle chimney, and heated hot in a moment !" 

But as he gently rebuked her, and told her how much he 
had suffered, — 

How he had even determined to sail that day in the 
Mayflower, 715 

And had remained for her sake, on hearing the dangers 
that threatened, — 

All her manner was changed, and she said with a falter- 
ing accent, 



44 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 

"Truly I thank you for this: how good you have been 
to me always !" 

Thus, as a pilgrim devout, who toward Jerusalem 
journeys, 

Taking three steps in advance, and one reluctantly back- 
ward, 720 

Urged by importunate zeal, and withheld by pangs of 
contrition ; 

Slowly but steadily onward, receding yet ever advanc- 
ing. 

Journeyed this Puritan youth to the Holy Land of his 
longings. 

Urged by the fervor of love, and withheld by remorseful 
misgivings. 



VII 

THE MARCH OF MILES STANDISH 

Meanwhile the stalwart Miles Standish was marching 

steadily northward, 725 

Winding through forest and swamp, and along the trend 

of the sea-shore. 
All day long, with hardly a halt, the fire of his anger 
Burning and crackling within, and the sulphurous odor 

of powder 
Seeming more sweet to his nostrils than all the scents of 

the forest. 
Silent and moody he went, and much he revolved his 

discomfort ; 730 

He who was used to success, and to easy victories always, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 45 

Thus to be flouted, rejected, and laughed to scorn by a 

maiden. 
Thus to be mocked and betrayed by the friend whom 

most he had trusted ! 
Ah ! 'twas too much to be borne, and he fretted and 

chafed in his armor ! 

"I alone am to blame," he muttered, "for mine was 
the folly. 735 

What has a rough old soldier, grown grim and gray in 
the harness. 

Used to the camp and its ways, to do with the wooing 
of maidens ? 

'Twas but a dream, — let it pass, — let it vanish like so 
many others ! 

What I thought was a flower, is only a weed, and is 
worthless ; 

Out of my heart will I pluck it, and throw it away, and 
henceforward 740 

Be but a fighter of battles, a lover and wooer of dangers.^' 

Thus he revolved in his mind his sorry defeat and dis- 
comfort, 

While he was marching by day or lying at night in the 
forest. 

Looking up at the trees and the constellations beyond 
them. 

After a three days' march he came to an Indian en- 
campment° 745 

Pitched on the edge of a meadow, between the sea and 
the forest; 

Women at work by the tents, and warriors, horrid with 
war-paint, 



46 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH \ 

Seated about a fire, and smoking and talking together; 
Who, when they saw from afar the sudden approach of 

the white men, 
Saw the flash of the sun on breastplate and sabre and 

musket, " 750 

Straightway leaped to their feet, and two, from among 

them advancing, 
Came to parley with Standish, and offer him furs as a 

present ; 
Friendship was in their looks, but in their hearts there 

was hatred. 
Braves of the tribe were these, and brothers, gigantic in 

stature, 
Huge as Goliath of Gath, or the terrible Og, king of 

Bashan°; ■ 75s • 

One was Pecksuot named, and the other was called Wat- \ 

tawamat.° < 

Round their necks were suspended their knives in scab- j 

bards of wampum. 
Two-edged, trenchant knives, with points as sharp as a 

needle. 
Other arms had they none, for they were cunning and 

crafty. 
" Welcome, English ! " they said, — these words they had | 

learned from the traders 760 

Touching at times on the coast, to barter and chaffer j 

for peltries. ; 

Then in their native tongue they began to parley with 

Standish, 
Through his guide and interpreter, Hobomok, friend of ^ 

the white man, I 

Begging for blankets and knives, but mostly for muskets 

and powder, ; 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 47 

Kept by the white man, they said, concealed, with the 

plague, in his cellars, 765 

Ready to be let loose, and destroy his brother the red 

man ! » 

But when Standish refused, and said he would give thern 

the Bible, 
Suddenly changing their tone, they began to boast and 

to bluster. 
Then Wattawamat advanced with a stride in front of 

the other, 
And, with a lofty demeanor, thus vauntingly spake to 

the Captain : 770 

''Now Wattawamat can see, by the fiery eyes of the 

Captain, 
Angry is he in his heart; but the heart of the brave 

Wattawamat 
Is not afraid at the sight. He was not born of a woman. 
But on a mountain, at night, from an oak-tree riven 

by lightning. 
Forth he sprang at a bound, with all his weapons about 

him, _ 775 

Shouting, 'Who is there here to fight with the brave 

Wattawamat?'" 
Then he unsheathed his knife, and, whetting the blade 

on his left hand. 
Held it aloft and displayed a woman's face on the 

handle, 
Saying, with bitter expression and look of sinister 

meaning : 
" I have another at home, with the face of a man on the 

handle ; 780 

By and by they shall marry; and there will be plenty 

of children!" 



48 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 

Then stood Pecksuot forth, self-vaunting, insulting 

Miles Stanclish; 
While with his fingers he patted the knife that hung 

at his bosom, 
Drawing it half from its sheath, and plunging it back, 

as he muttered, 
" By and by it shall see ; it shall eat ; ah, ha ! but 

shall speak not ! 785 

This is the mighty Captain the white men have sent to 

destroy us ! 
He is a little man ; let him go and work with the 

women !" 

Meanwhile Standish had noted the faces and figures 

of Indians 
Peeping and creeping about from bush to tree in the 

forest, 
Feigning to look for game, with arrows set on their 

bow-strings, 790 

Drawing about him still closer and closer the net of 

their ambush. 
But undaunted he stood, and dissembled and treated 

them smoothly; 
So the old chronicles say, that were writ in the days 

of the fathers. 
But when he heard their defiance, the boast, the taunt 

and the insult, 
All the hot blood of his race, of Sir Hugh and of Thurs- 
ton de Standish, 795 
Boiled and beat in his heart, and swelled in the veins 

of his temples. 
Headlong he leaped on the boaster, and, snatching his 

knife from its scabbard^ 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 49 

Plunged it into his heart, and, reehng backward, the 

savage 
Fell with his face to the sky, and a fiendlike fierceness 

upon it. 
Straight there arose from the forest the awful sound 

of the war-whoop, 800 

And, like a flurry of snow on the whistling wind of 

December, 
Swift and sudden and keen came a flight of feathery 

arrows. 
Then came a cloud of smoke, and out of the cloud 

came the lightning, 
Out of the lightning thunder ; and death unseen ran 

before it. 
Frightened the savages fled for shelter in swamp and 

in thicket, 805 

Hotly pursued and beset; but their sachem, the brave 

Wattawamat, 
Fled not; he was dead. Unswerving and swift had a 

bullet 
Passed through his brain, and he fell with both hands 

clutching the greensward, 
Seeming in death to hold back from his foe the land of 

his fathers. 

There on the flowers of the meadow the warriors 

lay, and above them, 810 

Silent, with folded arms, stood Hobomok, friend of 

the white man. 
Smiling at length he exclaimed to the stalwart Captain 

of Plymouth: 
"Pecksuot bragged very loud, of his courage, his 

strength and his stature, — 

E 



50 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 

Mocked the great Captain, and called him a little man; 

but I see now 
Big enough have you been to lay him speechless before 

you!'' 815 

Thus the first battle was fought and won by the 

stalwart Miles Standish. 
When the tidings thereof were brought to the village 

of Plymouth, 
And as a trophy of war the head of the brave Wat- 

tawamat 
Scowled from the roof of the fort, which at once was 

a church and a fortress. 
All who beheld it rejoiced, and praised the Lord, and 

took courage. 820 

Only Priscilla averted her face from this spectre of 

terror, 
Thanking God in her heart that she had not married 

Miles Standish; 
Shrinking, fearing almost, lest, coming home from his 

battles, 
He should lay claim to her hand, as the prize and re- 
ward of his valor. 



VIII 

THE SPINNING WHEEL 

Month after month passed away, and in autumn the 
ships of the merchants ° 825 

Came with kindred and friends, with cattle and corn 
for the Pilgrims. 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 51 

All in the village was peace; the men were intent on 
their labors, 

Busy with hewing and building, with garden-plot and 
with merestead, 

Busy with breaking the glebe, and mowing the grass 
in the meadows, ° 

Searching the sea for its fish, and hunting the deer in 
the forest. 830 

All in the village was peace; but at times the rumor 
of warfare 

Filled the air with alarm, and the apprehension of danger. 

Bravely the stalwart Standish was scouring the land 
with his forces, 

Waxing valiant in fight and defeating the alien armies, 

Till his name had become a sound of fear to the na- 
tions. 83s 

Anger was still in his heart, but at times the remorse 
and contrition 

Which in all noble natures succeed the passionate out- 
break. 

Came like a rising tide, that encounters the rush of a 
river. 

Staying its current awhile, but making it bitter and 
brackish. 

Meanwhile Alden at home had built him a new 

habitation, ° 840 

Solid, substantial, of timber rough-hewn from the firs 

of the forest. 
Wooden-barred was the door, and the roof was covered 

with rushes; 
Latticed the windows were, and the window-panes were 

of paper, 



54 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 

"You are the beautiful Bertha, the spinner, the queen 

of Helvetia; 
She whose story I read at a stall in the streets of 

Southampton, 
Who, as she rode on her palfrey, o'er valley and meadow 

and mountain. 
Ever was spinning her thread from a distaff fixed to 

her saddle. 
She was so thrifty and good, that her name passed 

into a proverb. 880 

So shall it be with your own, when the spinning-wheel 

shall no longer 
Hum in the house of the farmer, and fill its chambers 

with music. 
Then shall the mothers, reproving, relate how it was 

in their childhood, 
Praising the good old times, and the days of Priscilla 

the spinner !" 
Straight uprose from her wheel the beautiful Puritan 

maiden, 885 

Pleased with the praise of her thrift from him whose 

praise was the sweetest. 
Drew from the reel on the table a snowy skein of her 

spinning. 
Thus making answer, meanwhile, to the flattering 

phrases of Alden: 
"Come, you must not be idle; if I am a pattern for 

housewives. 
Show yourself equally worthy of being the model of 

husbands. 890 

Hold this skein on your hands, while I wind it, ready 

for knitting; 
Then who knows but hereafter, when fashions have 

changed and the manners, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 55 

Fathers may talk to their sons of the good old times 

of John Alden!" 
Thus, with a jest and a laugh, the skein on his hands 

she adjusted, 
He sitting awkwardly there, with his arms extended 

before him, 895 

She standing graceful, erect, and winding the thread 

from his fingers. 
Sometimes chiding a little his clumsy manner of hold- 
ing, 
Sometimes touching his hands, as she disentangled 

expertly 
Twist or knot in the yarn, unawares — for how could 

she help it ? — 
Sending electrical thrills through every nerve in his 

body. 900 

Lo ! in the midst of this scene, a breathless messen- 
ger entered. 
Bringing in hurry and heat the terrible news from the 

village. 
Yes ; Miles Standish was dead ! — an Indian had brought 

them the tidings, — 
Slain by a poisoned arrow, shot down in the front of 

the battle. 
Into an ambush beguiled, cut off with the whole of his 

forces ; ' 905 

All the town would be burned, and all the people be 

murdered ! 
Such were the tidings of evil that burst on the hearts 

of the hearers. 
Silent and statue-like stood Priscilla, her face looking 

backward 



56 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 

Still at the face of the speaker, her arms uplifted in 

horror ; 
But John Alden, upstarting, as if the barb of the ar- 
row 910 
Piercing the heart of his friend had struck his own, 

and had sundered 
Once and forever the bonds that held him bound as a 

captive, 
Wild with excess of sensation, the awful delight of 

his freedom, 
Mingled with pain and regret, unconscious of what he 

was doing. 
Clasped, almost with a groan, the motionless form of 

Priscilla, 915 

Pressing her close to his heart, as forever his own, 

and exclaiming: 
"Those whom the Lord hath united, let no man put 

them asunder !" 

Even as rivulets twain, from distant and separate 
sources. 

Seeing each other afar, as they leap from the rocks, 
and pursuing 

Each one its devious path, but drawing nearer and 
nearer, 920 

Rush together at last, at their trysting-place° in the 
forest ; 

So these lives that had run thus far in separate channels. 

Coming in sight of each other, then swerving and flow- 
ing asunder. 

Parted by barriers strong, but drawing nearer and 
nearer, 

Rushed together at last, and one was lost in the other. 925 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 57 

IX 

THE WEDDING-DAY 

Forth from the curtain of clouds, from the tent of 
purple and scarlet, 

Issued the sun, the great High-Priest, in his garments 
resplendent, ° 

Holiness unto the Lord, in letters of light, on his fore- 
head. 

Round the hem of his robe the golden bells and pome- 
granates. 

Blessing the world he came, and the bars of vapor 
beneath him 930 

Gleamed like a grate of brass, and the sea at his feet 
was a laver ! 

This was the wedding morn of Priscilla the Puri- 
tan maiden. 

Friends were assembled together ; the Elder and 
Magistrate also 

Graced the scene with their presence, and stood like 
the Law and the Gospel, 

One with the sanction of earth and one with the bless- 
ing of heaven. 935 

Simple and brief was the wedding, as that of Ruth and 
of Boaz.° 

Softly the youth and the maiden repeated the words 
of betrothal. 

Taking each other for husband and wife in the Magis- 
trate's presence, 



58 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 

After the Puritan way, and the laudable custom of 

Holland. 
Fervently then and devoutly, the excellent Elder of 

Plymouth 940 

Prayed for the hearth and the home, that were founded 

that day in affection. 
Speaking of life and of death, and imploring Divine 

benedictions. 

Lo ! when the service was ended, a form appeared 

on the threshold. 
Clad in armor of steel, a sombre and sorrowful figure ! 
Why does the bridegroom start and stare at the strange 

apparition ? 945 

Why does the bride turn pale, and hide her face on his 

shoulder ? 
Is it a phantom of air, — a bodiless, spectral illusion ? 
Is it a ghost from the grave, that has come to forbid 

the betrothal? 
Long had it stood there unseen, a guest uninvited, un- 

welcomed ; 
Over its clouded eyes there had passed at times an 

expression 95° 

Softening the gloom and revealing the warm heart 

hidden beneath them. 
As when across the sky the driving rack of the rain 

cloud 
Grows for a moment thin, and betrays the sun by its 

brightness. 
Once it had lifted its hand, and moved its lips, but 

was silent. 
As if an iron will had mastered the fleeting inten- 
tion. 955 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES ST AN DISH 59 

But when were ended the troth and the prayer and 

the last benediction, 
Into the room it strode, and the people beheld with 

amazement 
Bodily there in his armor Miles Standish, the Captain 

of Plymouth ! 
Grasping the bridegroom's hand, he said with emotion, 

" Forgive me ! 
I have been angry and hurt, — too long have I clierished 

the feeling; 960 

I have been cruel and hard, but now, thank God ! it 

is ended. 
Mine is the same hot blood that leaped in the veins of 

Hugh Standish, 
Sensitive, swift to resent, but as swift in atoning for error. 
Never so much as now was Miles Standish the friend of 

John Alden. " 
Thereupon answered the bridegroom : "Let all be 

forgotten between us, — 965 

All save the dear old friendship, and that shall grow 

older and dearer!" 
Then the Captain advanced, and, bowing, saluted Pris- 

cilla. 
Gravely, and after the manner of old-fashioned gentry 

in England, 
Something of camp and of court, of town and of country, 

commingled. 
Wishing her joy of her wedding, and loudly lauding 

her husband. 970 

Then he said with a smile: "I should have remem- 
bered the adage, — 
If you will be well served, you must serve yourself; 

and moreover, 



60 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STAN DISH 

No man can gather cherries in Kent at the season of 
Christmas^!" 

Great was the people's amazement, and greater yet 
their rejoicing, 

Thus to behold once more the sunburnt face of their 
Captain, 97s 

Whom they had mourned as dead; and they gathered 
and crowded about him. 

Eager to see him and hear him, forgetful of bride and 
of bridegroom, 

Questioning, answering, laughing, and each interrupt- 
ing the other, 

Till the good Captain declared, being quite overpow- 
ered and bewildered. 

He had rather by far break into an Indian encamp- 
ment, 980 

Than come again to a wedding to which he had not 
been invited. 

Meanwhile the bridegroom w^ent forth and stood 
with the bride at the doorway. 

Breathing the perfumed air of that warm and beauti- 
ful morning. 

Touched with autumnal tints, but lonely and sad in 
the simshine. 

Lay extended before them the land of toil and priva- 
tion ; 985 

There w^ere the graves of the dead, and the barren 
waste of the sea-shore, 

There the familiar fields, the groves of pine, and the 
meadows ; 

But to their eyes transfigured, it seemed as the Garden 
of Eden, 



THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 61 

Filled with the presence of God, whose voice was the 
sound of the ocean. 

Soon was their vision disturbed by the noise and 
stir of departure, 990 

Friends coming forth from the house, and impatient 
of longer delaying, 

Each with his plan for the day, and the work that was 
left uncompleted. 

Then from a stall near at hand, amid exclamations of 
wonder, 

Alden the thoughtful, the careful, so happy, so proud 
of Priscilla, 

Brought out his snow-white bull, obeying the hand of 
its master, 995 

Led by a cord that was tied to an iron ring in its nos- 
trils. 

Covered with crimson cloth, and a cushion placed for 
a saddle. 

She should not walk, he said, through the dust and 
heat of the noonday; 

Nay, she should ride like a queen, not plod along like 
a peasant. 

Somewhat alarmed at first, but reassured by the 
others, 1000 

Placing her hand on the cushion, her foot in the hand 
of her husband, 

Gayly, with joyous laugh, Priscilla mounted her pal- 
frey. 

"Nothing is wanting now,'' he said with a smile, "but 
the distaff; 

Then you would be in truth my queen, my beautiful 
Bertha!" 



62 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 

Onward the bridal procession now moved to their 
new habitation, 1005 

Happy husband and wife, and friends conversing to- 
gether. 

Pleasantly murmured the brook, as they crossed the 
ford in the forest, 

Pleased with the image that passed, like a dream of 
love through its bosom, 

Tremulous, floating in air, o'er the depths of the azure 
abysses. 

Down through the golden leaves the sun was pouring 
his splendors, loio 

Gleaming on purple grapes, that, from branches above 
them suspended, 

Mingled their odorous breath with the balm of the 
pine and the fir-tree. 

Wild and sweet as the clusters that grew in the valley 
of Eshcol.° 

Like a picture it seemed of the primitive, pastoral 
ages, 

Fresh with the youth of the world, and recalling Re- 
becca and Isaac, ° 1015 

Old and yet ever new, and simple and beautiful always. 

Love immortal and young in the endless succession of 
lovers. 

So through the Plymouth woods passed onward the 
bridal procession. 



MINOR POEMS 



PRELUDE 

Pleasant it was, when woods were green, 

And winds were soft and low, 
To lie amid some sylvan scene, 
Where, the long drooping boughs between, 
Shadows dark and sunlight sheen 5 

Alternate come and go; 

Or where the denser grove receives 

No sunlight from above. 
But the dark foliage interweaves 
In one unbroken roof of leaves, lo 

Underneath whose sloping eaves 

The shadows hardly move. 

Beneath some patriarchal tree 

I lay upon the ground; 
His hoary arms uplifted he, 15 

And all the broad leaves over me 
Clapped their little hands in glee, 

With one continuous sound ; — 

A slumberous sound, — a sound that bringg 
The feelings of a dream, — so 

63 



64 MINOR POEMS 

As of innumerable wings, 
As, when a bell no longer swings, 
Faint the hollow murmur rings 
O'er meadow, lake, and stream. 

And dreams of that which cannot die, 25 

Bright visions, came to me. 
As lapped in thought I used to lie. 
And gaze into the summer sky, 
Where the sailing clouds went by, 

Like ships upon the sea; 30 

Dreams that the soul of youth engage 

Ere Fancy has been quelled; 
Old legends of the monkish page. 
Traditions of the saint and sage, 
Tales that have the rime of age, 35 

And chronicles of Eld. 



And, loving still these quaint old themes, 

Even in the city's throng 
T feel the freshness of the streams, 
That, crossed by shades and sunny gleams, 
Water the green land of dreams, 

The holy land of song. 



40 s 



Therefore, at Pentecost, which brings® 

The Spring, clothed like a bride. 
When nestling buds unfold their wings, 45 

And bishop's-caps have golden rings, ° 
Musing upon many things, 

I sought the woodlands wide. 



i 



PRELUDE 65 

The green trees whispered low and mild; 

It was a sound of joy ! 50 

They were my playmates when a child, 
And rocked me in their arms so wild ! 
Still they looked at me and smiled, 

As if I were a boy; 

And ever whispered, mild and low, 55 

''Come, be a child once more!" 
And waved their long arms to and fro, 
And beckoned solemnly and slow; 
Oh, I could not choose but go 

Into the woodlands hoar, 60 

Into the blithe and breathing air, 

Into the solemn wood. 
Solemn and silent everywhere ! 
Nature with folded hands seemed there, 
Kneeling at her evening prayer ! 65 

Like one in prayer I stood. 

Before me rose an avenue 

Of tall and sombrous pines; 
Abroad their fan-like branches grew. 
And, where the sunshine darted through, 70 

Spread a vapor soft and blue. 

In long and sloping lines. 

And, falling on m}^ weary brain, 

Like a fast-falling shower. 
The dreams of youth came back again, 75 

Low lispings of the summer rain, 
Dropping on the ripened grain, 

As once upon the flower. ■ 



66 . MINOR POEMS 

Visions of childhood ! Stay, O stay ! 

Ye were so sweet and wild ! 80 

And distant voices seemed to say, 
"It cannot be ! They pass away ! 
Other themes demand thy lay°; 

Thou art no more a child ! 

''The land of Song within thee lies, 85 

Watered by living springs; 
The lids of Fancy's sleepless eyes - 
Are gates unto that Paradise; 
Holy thoughts, like stars, arise, 

Its clouds are angels' wings. 90 

''Learn, that henceforth thy song shall be, 
Not mountains capped with snow, 

Nor forests sounding like the sea, 

Nor rivers flowing ceaselessly. 

Where the woodlands bend to see 95 

The bending heavens below. 

"There is a forest where the din 

Of iron branches sounds ! 
A mighty river roars between, 
And whosoever looks therein 100 

Sees the heavens all black with sin. 

Sees not its depths, nor bounds. 

"Athwart the swinging branches cast, 

Soft rays of sunshine pour; 
Then comes the fearful wintry blast; 105 

Our hopes, like withered leaves, fall fast; 
Pallid lips say, ' It is past ! 

We can return no more !' 



HYMN TO THE NIGHT 67 

" Look, then, into thine heart, and write ! 

Yes, into Life's deep stream ! no 

All forms of sorrow and delight, 
All solemn Voices of the Night, 
That can soothe thee, or affright, — • 

Be these henceforth thy theme." 



HYMN TO THE NIGHT 

I HEARD the trailing garments of the Night 
Sweep through her marble halls ! 
I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light 
From the celestial walls ! 

I felt her presence, by its spell of might, 5 

Stoop o'er me from above ; 

The calm, majestic presence of the Night, 

As of the one I love. 

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight. 
The manifold, soft chimes, 10 

That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, 
Like some old ports' rhymes. 

From the cool cisterns of the midnight air 
My spirit drank repose; 

The fountain of perpetual peace flows there, — 15 
From those deep cisterns flows. 

O holy Night ! from thee I learn to bear 
What man has borne before ! 



68 ' MINOR POEMS 

Thou layest thy finger on the Hps of Care, 
And they complain no more. 

Peace ! Peace ! Orestes-like ° I breathe this prayer ! 
Descend with broad-winged flight, 
The welcome, the thrice prayed for, the most fair, 
The best-beloved Night ! 



A PSALM OF LIFE° 

WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE 

PSALMIST 

Tell me not, in mournful numbers, 
''Life is but an empty dream!" — 

For the soul is dead that slumbers. 
And things are not what they seem. 

Life is real ! Life is earnest ! s 

And the grave is not its goal; 
''Dust thou art, to dust returnest," 

Was not spoken of the soul. 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way; lo 

But to act, that each to-morrow 

Find us farther than to-day. 

Art is long, and Time is fleeting. 

And our hearts, though stout and brave, 

Still, like muffled drums, are beating 15 

Funeral marches to the grave. 



THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS 69 

In the world's broad field of battle, 

In the bivouac of Life, 
Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! 

Be a hero in the strife ! 20 

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! 

Let the dead Past bury its dead ! 
Act, — act in the living Present ! 

Heart within, and God overhead ! 

Lives of great men all remind us 25 

We can make our lives sublime. 

And, departing, leave behind us 
Footprints on the sands of time; 

Footprints, that perhaps another, 

vSailing o^er life's solemn main, 30 

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 

Seeing, shall take heart again. 

Let us, then, be up and doing. 

With a heart for any fate; 
Still achieving, still pursuing, 35 

Learn to labor and to wait. 



THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS° 

There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, 

And, with his sickle keen, 
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, 

And the flowers that grow between. 



70 MINOR POEMS 

"Shall I have naught that is fair?" saith he; 5 
" Have naught but the bearded grain ? 

Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, 
I will give them all back again." 

He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes. 

He kissed their drooping leaves; 10 

It was for the Lord of Paradise 
He bound them in his sheaves. 

"My Lord has need of these flow^erets gay," 

The Reaper said, and smiled; 
Dear tokens of the earth are they, 15 

Where He was once a child. 

"They shall all bloom in fields of light, 

Transplanted by my care, 
And saints, upon their garments white, 

These sacred blossoms wear." 20 

And the mother gave, in tears and pain, 

The flowers she most did love; 
She knew she should find them all again 

In the fields of liffht above. 



*&^ 



Oh, no*t in cruelty, not in wrath, 25 

The Reaper came that day; 
'Twas an angel visited the green earth, 

And took the flowers away. 



THE LIGHT OF STARS 71 



THE LIGHT OF STARS° 

The night is come, but not too soon; 

And sinking silently, 
All silently, the little moon 

Drops down behind the sky. 

There is no light in earth or heaven 5 

But the cold light of stars; 
And the first watch of night is given 

To the red planet Mars.° 

Is it the tender star of love? 

The star of love and dreams? 10 

O no ! from that blue tent above 

A hero's armor gleams. 

And earnest thoughts within me rise, 

When I behold afar, 
Suspended in the evening skies, 15 

The shield of that red star. 

star of strength ! I see thee stand 
And smile upon my pain; 

Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand, 

And I am strong again. 20 

Within my breast there is no light, 
But the cold light of stars; 

1 give the first watch of the night 
To the red planet Mars. 



72 MINOR POEMS 

The star of the unconquered will, 25 

He rises in my breast, 
Serene, and resolute, and still. 

And calm and self-possessed. 

And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, 

That readest this brief psalm, 30 

As one by one thy hopes depart, 
Be resolute and calm. 

0, fear not in a world like this. 
And thou shalt know erelong, 

Know how sublime a thing it is 35 

To suffer and be strong. 



FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS° 

When the hours of Day are numbered. 

And the voices of the Night 
Wake the better soul, that slumbered, 

To a holy, calm delight; 

Ere the evening lamps are lighted, 5 

And, like phantoms grim and tall, 

Shadows from the fitful firelight 
Dance upon the parlor wall ; 

Then the forms of the departed 

Enter at the open door; 10 

The beloved, the true-hearted, 

Come to visit me once more ; 



FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS 73 

He, the young and strong, who cherished ° 

Noble longings for the strife, 
By the roadside fell and perished, 15 

Weary with the march of life ! 

They, the holy ones and weakly, 

Who the cross of suffering bore, 
Folded their pale hands so meekly, 

Spake with us on earth no more ! 20 

And with them the Being Beauteous, ° 

Who unto my youth was given. 
More than all things else to love me, 

And is now a saint in heaven. 

With a slow and noiseless footstep 25 

Comes that messenger divine. 
Takes the vacant chair beside me, 

Lays her gentle hand in mine. 

And she sits and gazes at me 

With those deep and tender eyes, 30 

Like the stars, so still and saintlike. 

Looking downward from the skies. 

Uttered not, yet comprehended. 

Is the spirit's voiceless prayer, 
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended, 35 

Breathing from her lips of air. 

Oh, though oft depressed and lonely. 

All my fears are laid aside, 
If I but remember only 

Such as these have lived and died ! 40 



74 MINOR POEMS 



FLOWERS 



Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, 
One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, 

When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, 
Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine. 

Stars they are, wherein we read our history, s 

As astrologers and seers of eld°; 
Yet not wrapped about with awful mystery, 

Like the burning stars, which they beheld. 

Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous, 

God hath written in those stars above ; lo 

But not less in the bright flowerets under us 
Stands the revelation of his love. 

Bright and glorious is that revelation. 
Written all over this great world of ours ; 

Making evident our own creation, 15 

In these stars of earth, these golden flowers. 

And the Poet, faithful and far-seeing, 
Sees, alike in stars and flowers, a part 

Of the self-same, universal being. 

Which is throbbing in his brain and heart. 20 

Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shining. 
Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day. 

Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining, 
Buds that open only to decay; 



FLOWERS 75 

Brilliant hopes, all woven in gorgeous tissues, 25 

Flaunting gayly in the golden light ; 
Large desires, with most uncertain issues, 

Tender wishes, blossoming at night ! 

These in flowers and men are more than seeming, 
Workings are they of the self-same powers, 30 

Which the Poet, in no idle dreaming, 
Seeth in himself and in the flowers. 

Everywhere about us are they glowing, 
Some like stars, to tell us Spring is born; 

Others, their blue eyes with tears overflowing, 35 
Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn°; 

Not alone in Spring's armorial bearing, 
And in Summer's green-emblazoned field. 

But in arms of brave old Autumn's wearing. 

In the centre of his brazen shield ; 4° 

Not alone in meadows and green alleys, 
On the mountain-top, and by the brink 

Of sequestered pools in woodland valleys, 
Where the slaves of nature stoop to drink; 

Not alone in her vast dome of glory, 45 

Not on graves of bird and beast alone, 

But in old cathedrals, high and hoary. 
On the tombs of heroes, carved in stone ; 

In the cottage of the rudest peasant, 

In ancestral homes, whose crumbling towers. 50 
Speaking of the Past unto the Present, 

Tell us of the ancient Games of Flowers ; 



76 MINOR POEMS 

In all places, then, and in all seasons, 

Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings, 

Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons, ss 

How akin they are to human things. 

And with childlike, credulous affection 
We behold their tender buds expand; 

Emblems of our own great resurrection, 

Emblems of the bright and better land. 60 



THE BELEAGUERED CITY 

I HAVE read, in some old, marvellous tale, 

Some legend strange and vague, 
That a midnight host of spectres pale 

Beleaguered the walls of Prague. 

Beside the Moldau's rushing stream,^ 5 

With the wan moon overhead. 
There stood, as in an awful dream. 

The army of the dead. 

White as a sea-fog, landward bound. 

The spectral camp was seen, 10 

And, with a sorrowful, deep sound. 

The river flowed between. 

No other voice nor sound w^as there. 

No drum, nor sentry's pace; 
The mist-like banners clasped the air 15 

As clouds with clouds embrace. 



THE BELEAGUERED CITY 11 

But when the old cathedral bell 

Proclaimed the morning prayer, 
The white pavilions rose and fell 

On the alarmed air. - . 20 

Down the broad valley fast and far 

The troubled army fled; 
Up rose the glorious morning star, 

The ghastly host was dead. 

I have read, in the marvellous heart of man, 25 

That strange and mystic scroll, 
That an army of phantoms vast and wan 
Beleaguer the human soul. 

Encamped beside Life's rushing stream, 

In Fancy's misty light, 30 

Gigantic shapes and shadows gleam 
Portentous through the night. 

Upon its midnight battle-ground 

The spectral camp is seen, 
And, with a sorrowful, deep sound, 35 

Flows the River of Life between. 

No other voice nor sound is there, 

In the army of the grave ; 
No other challenge breaks the air. 

But the rushing of Life's wave. 40 

And when the solemn and deep church-bell 

Entreats the soul to pray, 
The midnight phantoms feel the spell, 

The shadows sweep away. 



MINOR POEMS 



Down the broad Vale of Tears afar 45 

The spectral camp is fled ; 
Faith shineth as a morning star, 

Our ghastly fears are dead. 



MIDNIGHT MASS FOR THE DYING YEAR° 

Yes, the Year is growing old, 
And his eye is pale and bleared ! 

Death, with frosty hand and cold, 
Plucks the old man by the beard, 

Sorely, sorely ! 5 

The leaves are falling, falling, 

Solemnly and slow; 
Caw ! caw ! the rooks are calling, 

It is a sound of woe, 

A sound of woe ! 10 

Through woods and mountain passes 

The winds, like anthems, roll; 
They are chanting solemn masses. 

Singing, " Pray for this poor soul, 

Pray, pray V 15 

And the hooded clouds, like friars, 
Tell their beads in drops of rain, 

And patter their doleful prayers; 
But their prayers are all in vain, 

All in vain ! 20 



MIDNIGHT MASS FOR THE DYING YEAR 79 

There he stands in the foul weather, 

The foohsh, fond Old Year, 
Crowned with wild flowers and with heather, 

Like weak, despised Lear,° 

A king, a king ! 25 

Then comes the summer-like day, 

Bids the old man rejoice ! 
His joy ! his last ! Oh, the old man gray 

Loveth that ever-soft voice. 

Gentle and low. 30 

To the crimson woods he saith. 

To the voice gentle and low 
Of the soft air, like a daughter's breath, 

" Pray do not mock me so ! 
Do not laugh at me !" 35 

And now the sweet day is dead; 

Cold in his arms it lies; 
No stain from its breath is spread 

Over the glassy skies, 

No mist or stain ! 40 

Then, too, the Old Year dieth, 

And the forests utter a moan. 
Like the voice of one who crieth 

In the wilderness alone, 

" Vex not his ghost !" 4S 

Then comes, with an awful roar, 

Gathering and sounding on, 
The storm-wind from Labrador, ° 



80 MINOR POEMS 

The wind Euroclydon,° 

The storm-wind ! 50 

Howl ! howl ! and from the forest 

Sweep the red leaves away ! 
Would the sins that thou abhorrest, 

O soul ! could thus decay, 

And be swept away ! 55 

For there shall come a mightier blast," 

There shall be a darker day ; 
And the stars, from heaven downcast, 
Like red leaves be swept away ! 
Kyrie, eleyson° ! 60 

Christie, eleyson ! 



WOODS IN WINTER 

When winter winds are piercing chill, 

And through the hawthorn blows the gale, 

With solemn feet I tread the hill. 
That overbrows the lonely vale. 

O'er the bare upland, and away 

Through the long reach of desert woods. 

The embracing sunbeams chastely play. 
And gladden these deep solitudes. 

Where, twisted round the barren oak, 
The summer vine in beauty clung. 

And summer winds the stillness broke, 
The crystal icicle is hung. 



HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS 81 

Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs 

Pour out the river's gradual tide. 
Shrilly the skater's iron rings, 15 

And voices fill the woodland side. 

Alas ! how changed from the fair scene, 
When birds sang out their mellow lay, 

And winds were soft, and woods were green, 

And the song ceased not with the day. 20 

But still wild music is abroad. 

Pale, desert woods ! within your crowd; 

And gathering winds, in hoarse accord, 
Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud. 

Chill airs and wintry winds ! my ear 25 

Has grown familiar with your song; 
I hear it in the opening year, 

I listen, and it cheers me long. 



HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS OF 
BETHLEHEM° 

AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKl's BANNER 

When the dying flame of day 
Through the chancel shot its ray, 
Far the glimmering tapers shed 
Faint light on the cowled head; 
And the censer burning swung. 
Where, before the altar, hung 



82 MINOR POEMS 

The blood-red banner, that with prayer° 

Had been consecrated there. 

And the nuns' sweet hymn was heard the while, 

Sung low, in the dim, mysterious aisle. lo 

" Take thy banner ! May it wave 

Proudly o'er the good and brave; 

When the battle's distant wail 

Breaks the sabbath of our vale, 

When the clarion's music thrills 15 

To the hearts of these lone hills, 

When the spear in conflict shakes. 

And the strong lance shivering breaks. 

" Take thy banner ! and, beneath 

The battle-cloud's encircling wreath, 20 

Guard it, till our homes are free ! 

Guard it ! God will prosper thee ! 

In the dark and trying hour, 

In the breaking forth of power, 

In the rush of steeds and men, 25 

His right hand will shield thee then. 

'' Take thy banner ! But when night 

Closes round the ghastly fight. 

If the vanquished warrior bow. 

Spare him ! By our holy vow, 30 

By our prayers and many tears. 

By the mercy that endears, 

Spare him ! he our love hath shared ! 

Spare him ! as thou wouldst be spared ! 

'' Take thy banner ! and if e'er 35 

Thou shouldst press the soldier's bier, 



SUNRISE ON THE HILLS 83 

And the muffled drum should beat 

To the tread of mournful feet, 

Then this crimson flag shall be 

Martial cloak and shroud for thee.'' 40 



SUNRISE ON THE HILLS 

I STOOD upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch 
Was glorious with the sun's returning march, 
And woods were brightened, and soft gales 
Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales. 
The clouds were far beneath me ; bathed in light, 5 

They gathered midway round the wooded height. 
And, in their fading glory, shone 
Like hosts in battle overthrown. 
As many a pinnacle, with shifting glance, 
Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered lance, 10 
And rocking on the cliff was left 
The dark pine blasted, bare, and cleft. 
The veil of cloud was lifted, and below 
Glowed the rich valley, and the river's flow 
Was darkened by the forest's shade, 15 

Or glistened in the white cascade ; 
Where upward, in the mellow blush of day, 
The noisy bittern wheeled his spiral way.° 

I heard the distant waters dash, 
I saw the current whirl and flash, 20 

And richly, by the blue lake's silver beach, 
The woods were bending with a silent reach. 
Then o'er the vale, with gentle swell, 



84 MINOR POEMS 

The music of the village bell 

Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills ; 25 

And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland fills, 
Was ringing to the merry shout 
That faint and far the glen sent out, 
Where, answering to the sudden shot, thin smoke. 
Through thick-leaved branches, from the dingle 
broke. ° 30 

If thou art worn and hard beset ° 
With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget, 
If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep 
Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep, 
Go to the woods and hills ! No tears 35 

Dim the sweet look that Nature wears. 



THE SPIRIT OF POETRY 

There is a quiet spirit in these woods. 
That dwells where'er the gentle south-wind blows; 
Where, underneath the white-thorn in the glade, 
The wild flowxrs bloom, or, kissing the soft air, 
The leaves above their sunny palms outspread. 5 
With what a tender and impassioned voice 
It fills the nice and delicate ear of thought. 
When the fast ushering star of morning comes 
O'er-riding the gray hills with golden scarf; 
Or when the cowled and dusky-sandaled Eve,° 10 
In mourning weeds, from out the western gate,° 
Departs with silent pace ! That spirit moves 
In the green valley, where the silver brook, 



THE SPIRIT OF POETRY 85 

From its full laver, pours the white cascade; 
And, babbling low amid the tangled woods, 15 

Slips down through moss-grown stones with endless 

laughter. 
And frequent, on the everlasting hills, 
Its feet go forth, when it doth wrap itself 
In all the dark embroidery of the storm. 
And shouts the stern, strong wind. And here, 

amid 20 

The silent majesty of these deep woods, 
Its presence shall uplift thy thoughts from earth, 
As to the sunshine and the pure, bright air 
Their tops the green trees lift. Hence gifted bards 
Have ever loved the calm and quiet shades, 25 

For them there was an eloquent voice in all 
The sylvan pomp of woods, the golden sun, 
The flowers, the leaves, the river on its way, 
Blue skies, and silver clouds, and gentle winds, 
The swelling upland, where the sidelong sun 30 

Aslant the wooded slope, at evening, goes, 
Groves, through whose broken roof the sky looks in, 
Mountain, and shattered cliff, and sunny vale. 
The distant lake, fountains, and mighty trees, 
In many a lazy syllable, repeating 35 

Their old poetic legends to the wind. 

And this is the sweet spirit, that doth fill 
The world; and, in these way\vard days of youth, 
My busy fancy oft embodies it. 
As a bright image of the light and beauty 40 

That dwell in nature, — of the heavenly forms 
We worship in our dreams, and the soft hues 
That stain the wild bird's wing, and flush the clouds 



86 MINOR POEMS 

When the sun sets. Within her eye° 

The heaven of April, with its changing hght, 45 

And when it wears the blue of May, is hung, 

And on her lip the rich, red rose. Her hair 

Is like the summer tresses of the trees, 

When twilight makes them brown, and on her cheek 

Blushes the richness of an autumn sky, 50 

With ever-shifting beauty. Then her breath. 

It is so like the gentle air of Spring, 

As, from the morning's dewy flowers, it comes 

Full of their fragrance, that it is a joy 

To have it round us, — and her silver voice 55 

Is the rich music of a summer bird, 

Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence. 



BURIAL OF THE MINNISINK 

On sunny slope and beechen swell, 

The shadowed light of evening fell; 

And, where the maple's leaf was brown, 

With soft and silent lapse came down, 

The glory, that the wood receives, 5 

At sunset, in its golden leaves. 

Far upward in the mellow light 

Rose the blue hills. One cloud of white, 

Around a far uplifted cone, 

In the warm blush of evening shone; 10 

An image of the silver lakes, 

By which the Indian's soul awakes. 



BURIAL OF THE MINNISINK 87 

But soon a funeral hymn was heard 

Where the soft breath of evening stirred 

The tall, gray forest ; and a band 15 

Of stern in heart, and strong in hand, 

Came winding down beside the wave, 

To lay the red chief in his grave. ° 

They sang, that by his native bowers 

He stood, in the last moon of flowers, 20 

And thirty snows had not yet shed 

Their glory on the warrior's head; 

But, as the summer fruit decays, 

So died he in those naked days. 

A dark cloak of the roebuck's skin° 25 

Covered the warrior, and within 

Its heavy folds the weapons, made 

For the hard toils of war, were laid ; 

The cuirass, ° woven of plaited reeds, 

And the broad belt of shells and beads. 30 

Before, a dark-haired virgin train 

Chanted the death dirge of the slain; 

Behind, the long procession came 

Of hoary men and chiefs of fame, 

With heavy hearts, and eyes of grief, 35 

Leading the war-horse of their chief. 

Stripped of his proud and martial dress, 

Uncurbed, unreined, and riderless. 

With darting eye, and nostril spread, 

And heavy and impatient tread, 40 



88 MINOR POEMS 

He came ; and oft that eye so proud 

Asked for his rider in the crowd. 

They buried the dark chief; they freed 

Beside the grave his battle steed ; 

And swift an arrow cleaved its way 45 

To his stern heart ! One piercing neigh 

Arose, and, on the dead man's plain,- 

The rider grasps his steed again. 



THE SKELETON IN ARMOR° 

" Speak ! speak ! thou fearful guest ! 
Who, with thy hollow breast 
Still in rude armor drest, 

Comest to daunt me ! 
Wrapt not in Eastern balms, ° 5 

But with thy fleshless palms 
Stretched, as if asking alms, 

Why dost thou haunt me?'' 

Then, from those cavernous eyes 

Pale flashes seemed to rise, 10 

As when the Northern skies 

Gleam in December; 
And, like the water's flow 
Under December's snow, 
Came a dull voice of woe 15 

From the heart's chamber. 

'^ I was a Viking old° ! 

My deeds, though manifold, 

No Skald in song has told,° 

No Saga taught thee° ! 20 



THE SKELETON IN ARMOR 89 

Take heed, that in thy verse 
Thou dost the tale rehearse, 
Else dread a dead man's curse; 
For this I sought thee. 

" Far in the Northern Land, 25 

By the wild Baltic's strand, 
I, with my childish hand. 

Tamed the gerfalcon° ; 
And, with my skates fast-bound, 
Skimmed the half-frozen Sound, 30 

That the poor whimpering hound 

Trembled to walk on. 

" Oft to his frozen lair 

Tracked I the grisly bear; 

While from my path the hare 35 

Fled like a shadow; 
Oft through the forest dark 
Followed the were-wolf's bark,° 
Until the soaring lark 

Sang from the meadow. 4° 

"But when I older grew, 
Joining a corsair's crew. 
O'er the dark sea I flew 

With the marauders. 
Wild was the life we led ; 4S 

Many the souls that sped, 
Many the hearts that bled, 

By our stern orders. 

" Many a wassail-bout° 

Wore the long Winter out; 5° 



90 MINOR POEMS 

Often our midnight shout 

Set the cocks crowing, 
As we the Berserk's tale° 
Measured in cups of ale, 
Draining the oaken pail, 55 

Filled to o'erflowing. 

" Once as I told in glee 
Tales of the stormy sea. 
Soft eyes did gaze on me, 

Burning yet tender; 60 

And as the white stars shine 
On the dark Norway pine, 
On that dark heart of mine 

Fell their soft splendor. 

" I wooed the blue-eyed maid, 65 

Yielding, yet half afraid. 
And in the forest's shade 

Our vows were plighted. 
Under its loosened vest 

Fluttered her little breast, 70 

Like birds within their nest 

By the hawk frighted. 

" Bright in her father's hall 

Shields gleamed upon the wall. 

Loud sang the minstrels all, 75 

Chaunting his glory ; 
When of old Hildebrand° 
I asked his daughter's hand, 
Mute did the minstrels stand 

To hear my story. 80 



THE SKELETON IN ARMOR 91 

" While the brown ale he quaffed, 
Loud then the champion laughed, 
And as the wind-gusts waft 

The sea-foam brightly, 
So the loud laugh of scorn, 85 

Out of those lips unshorn, 
From the deep drinking-horn 

Blew the foam lightly. 

"She was a Prince's child, 

I but a Viking wild, 90 

And though she blushed and smiled, 

I was discarded ! 
Should not the dove so white 
Follow the sea-mew's flight. 
Why did they leave that night 95 

Her nest unguarded ? 

" Scarce had I put to sea, 
Bearing the maid with me. 
Fairest of all was she 

Among the Norsemen ! 100 

When on the white sea-strand. 
Waving his armed hand, 
Saw we old Hildebrand, 

With twenty horsemen, 

"Then launched they to the blast, 105 

Bent like a reed each mast. 
Yet we were gaining fast, 

When the wind failed us; 
And with a sudden flaw 
Came round the gusty Skaw,° no 



92 . MINOR POEMS 

So that our foe we saw 
Laugh as he hailed us. 

*' And as to catch the gale 

Round veered the flapping sail, 

'Death !' was the helmsman's hail 115 

'Death without quarter !' 
Mid-ships with iron keel 
Struck we her ribs of steel ; 
Down her black hulk did reel 

Through the black water I 120 

" As with his wings aslant, 
Sails the fierce cormorant, ° 
Seeking some rocky haunt, 

With his prey laden, — 
So toward the open main, 125 

Beating to sea again. 
Through the wild hurricane, 

Bore I the maiden. 

'' Three weeks we westward bore, 

And when the storm was o'er, 130 

Cloud-like we saw the shore 

Stretching to lee-ward; 
There for my lady's bower 
Built I the lofty tower. 
Which, to this very hour, " 135 

Stands looking seaward. 

'' There lived we many years; 
Time dried the maiden's tears; 
She had forgot her fears, 

She was a mother; 140 



THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS 93 

Death closed her mild blue eyes, 
Under that tower she lies ; 
Ne'er shall the sun arise 
On such another ! 

" Still grew my bosom then, , 145 

Still as a stagnant fen ! 
Hateful to me were men, 

The sunlight hateful ! 
In the vast forest here, 

Clad in my warlike gear, 15= 

Fell I upon my spear, 

Oh, death was grateful ! 

*' Thus, seamed with many scars, 

Bursting these prison bars. 

Up to its native stars 155 

My soul ascended ! 
There from the flowing bowl 
Deep drinks the warrior's soul, 
Skoal! to the Northland ! skoal°!" 

— Thus the tale ended. i5o 



THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS^ 

IT was the schooner Hesperus, 

That sailed the wintry sea ; 
And the skipper had taken his little daughter, 

To bear him company. 

31ue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, 
Her cheeks like the dawn of day. 



94 MINOR POEMS 

And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, 
That ope in the month of May. 

The skipper he stood beside the helm, 

His pipe was in his mouth, lo 

And he watched how the veering flaw did blow 
The smoke now West, now South. 

Then up and spake an old Sailor, 

Had sailed the Spanish Main,° 
^' I pray thee, put into yonder port, 15 

For I fear a hurricane. 

" Last night, the moon had a golden ring. 

And to-night no moon we see !" 
The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, 

And a scornful laugh laughed he 20 

Colder and louder blew the wind, 

A gale from the Northeast ; 
The snow fell hissing in the brine, 

And the billows frothed like yeast. 

Down came the storm, and smote amain 25 

The vessel in its strength ; 
She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed. 

Then leaped her cable's length. 

'^ Come hither ! come hither ! my Httle daughter. 
And do not tremble so ; 3° 

For I can weather the roughest gale 
That ever wind did blow. " 

He wrapped her warm in his sea-man's coat 
Against the stinging blast; 



THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS 96 

He cut a rope from a broken spar, 35 

And bound her to the mast. 

''0 father ! I hear the church-bells ring, 

Oh say, what may it be?" 
^' Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast !" — 

And he steered for the open sea. 40 

'^ O father ! I hear the sound of guns, 

Oh say, what may it be?" 
^' Some ship in distress, that cannot live 

In such an angry sea !" 

" O father ! I see a gleaming light, 45 

Oh say, what may it be?" 
But the father answered never a word, 

A frozen corpse was he. 

Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, 

With his face turned to the skies, 50 

The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow 

On his fixed and glassy eyes. 

Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed 

That saved she might be ; 
And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave, 55 

On the Lake of Galilee. 

And fast through the midnight dark and drear, 
Through the whistling sleet and snow. 

Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept 

Towards the reef of Norman's Woe.° 60 

And ever the fitful gusts between 
A sound came from the land; 



MINOR POEMS 

It was the sound of the tramphng surf, 
On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. 

The breakers were right beneath her bows, 65 

She drifted a dreary wreck, 
And a whooping billow swept the crew 

Like icicles from her deck. 

She struck where the white and fleecy waves 

Looked soft as carded wool, 70 

But the cruel rocks, they gored her side 
Like the horns of an angry bull. 

Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, 

With the masts went by the board ; 
Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank, 75 

Ho ! ho ! the breakers roared ! 

At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, 

A fisherman stood aghast, 
To see the form of a maiden fair. 

Lashed close to a drifting mast. 80 

The salt sea was frozen on her breast. 

The salt tears in her eyes ; 
And he saw her hair, like the brown seaweed, 

On the billows fall and rise. 

Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, 85 

In the midnight and the snow ! 
Christ save us all from a death like this, 

On the reef of Norman's Woe ! 



THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH 97 



THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH^ 

Under a spreading chestnut-tree 

The village smithy stands ; 
The smith, a mighty man is he, 

With large and sinewy hands ; 
And the muscles of his brawny arms 5 

Are strong as iron bands. 

His hair is crisp, and black, and long, 

His face is like the tan; 
His brow is wet with honest sweat, 

He earns whatever he can, lo 

And looks the whole world in the face. 

For he owes not any man. 

Week in, week out, from morn till night, 

You can hear his bellows blow ; 
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, 15 

With measured beat and slow, 
Like a sexton ringing the village bell, 

When the evening sun is low. 

And children coming home from school 

Look in at the open door ; 20 

They love to see the flaming forge, 
And hear the bellows roar, 

And catch the burning sparks that fly 
Like chaff from a threshing-floor. 

He. goes on Sunday to the church, 25 

And sits among his boys; 

H 



98 MINOR POEMS 

He hears the parson pray and preach, 

He hears his daughter's voice, 
Singing in the village choir, 

And it makes his heart rejoice. 30 

It sounds to him like her mother's voice, 

Singing in Paradise ! 
He needs must think of her once more. 

How in the grave she lies ; 
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes 35 

A tear out of his eyes. 

Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing. 

Onward through life he goes ; 
Each morning sees some task begin, 

Each evening sees it close ; 40 

Something attempted, something done, 

Has earned a night's repose. 

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, 

For the lesson thou hast taught ! 
Thus at the flaming forge of life 45 

Our fortunes must be wrought; 
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped 

Each burning deed and thought. 



THE RAINY DAY 

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary ; 
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall. 
But at every gust the dead leaves fall, 
And the day is dark and dreary. 



GOD^S-ACRE 99 

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary; 
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, 
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, 
And the days are dark and dreary. lo 

Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining; 
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; 
Thy fate is the common fate of all, 
Into each life some rain must fall. 

Some days must be dark and dreary. 15 



GOD'S-ACRE 

I LIKE that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls 
The burial-ground God's- Acre ! It is just; 

It consecrates each grave within its walls, 

And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. 

God's- Acre ! Yes, that blessed name imparts 
Comfort to those who in the grave have sown 

The seed that they had garnered in their hearts, 
Their bread of life, alas ! no more their own. 

Into its furrows shall we all be cast, 

In the sure faith, that we shall rise again 

At the great harvest, when the arch-angel's blast 
Shall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain. 

Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom, 
In the fair gardens of that second birth ; 



100 MINOR POEMS 

And each bright blossom mmgle its perfume 15 

With that of flowers, which never bloomed on earth. 

With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod, 
And spread the furrow for the seed, we sow ; 

This is the field and Acre of our God, 

This is the place where human harvests grow.° 50 



TO THE RIVER CHARLES^ 

River ! that in silence windest 

Through the meadows, bright and free, 

Till at length thy rest thou findest 
In the bosom of the sea ! 

Four long years of mingled feeling, 5 

Half in rest, and half in strife, 
I have seen thy waters stealing 

Onward, like tne stream of life. 

Thou hast taught me, Silent River ! 

Many a lesson, deep and long; 10 

Thou hast been a generous giver ; 

I can give thee but a song. 

Oft in sadness and in illness, 

I have watched thy current glide, 
Till the beauty of its stillness 15 

Overflowed me, like a tide. 

And in better hours and brighter, 

When I saw thy waters gleam, 
I have felt my heart beat lighter. 

And leap onward with thy stream. 20 



THE GOBLET OF LIFE 101 

Not for this alone I love thee, 

Nor because thy waves of blue 
From celestial seas above thee 

Take their own celestial hue. 

Where yon shadowy woodlands hide thee, 25 

And thy waters disappear, 
Friends I love have dwelt beside thee, 

And have made thy margin dear. 

More than this ; — thy name reminds me 

Of three friends, all true and tried°; 30 

And that name, like magic, binds me 
Closer, closer to thy side. 

Friends my soul with joy remembers ! 

How like quivering flames they start, 
When I fan the living embers 35 

On the hearthstone of my heart ! 

'Tis for this, thou Silent River ! 

That my spirit leans to thee ; 
Thou hast been a generous giver. 

Take this idle song from me. 40 



THE GOBLET OF LIFE 

Filled is Life's goblet to the brim; 
And though my eyes with tears are dim, 
I see its sparkling bubbles swim. 
And chant a melancholy hymn 
With solemn voice and slow. 



102 MINOR FOEMS 

No purple flowers, — no garlands green, 
Conceal the goblet's shade or sheen, 
Nor maddening draughts of Hippocrene,'^ 
Like gleams of sunshine, flash between 

Thick leaves of mistletoe. ° lo 

This goblet, wrought with curious art, 
Is filled with waters, that upstart, 
When the deep fountains of the heart, 
By strong convulsions rent apart, 

Are running all to waste. 15 

And as it mantling passes round, 
With fennel is it wreathed and crowned. 
Whose seed and foliage sun-imbrowned 
Are in its waters steeped and drowned, 

And give a bitter taste. 20 

Above the lowly plants it towers. 
The fennel, with its yellow flowers. 
And in an earlier age than ours 
Was gifted with the wondrous powers, 

Lost vision to restore. 25 

It gave new strength, and fearless mood; 
And gladiators, fierce and rude. 
Mingled it in their daily food; 
And he who battled and subdued, 

A wreath of fennel wore. 30 

Then in Life's goblet freely press 
The leaves that give it bitterness, 
Nor prize the colored waters less. 
For in thy darkness and distress 

New light and strength they give ! 35 



TEE GOBLET OF LIFE 103 

And he who has not learned to know 
How false its sparkling bubbles show, 
How bitter are the drops of woe, 
With which its brim may overflow, 

He has not learned to live. 40 

The prayer of Ajax was for light°; 
Through all that dark and desperate fight, 
The blackness of that noonday night, 
He asked but the return of sight, 

To see his foema^i's face. 45 

Let our unceasing, earnest prayer 
Be, too, for light, — for strength to bear 
Our portion of the weight of care. 
That crushes into dumb despair 

One half the human race. 50 

O suffering, sad humanity ! 

ye afflicted ones, who lie 
Steeped to the lips in misery, 
Longing, and yet afraid to die. 

Patient, though sorely tried ! 55 

1 pledge you in this cup of grief, 
Where floats the fennel's bitter leaf 
The Battle of our Life is brief, ., 

The alarm, — the struggle, — the relief. 

Then sleep we side by side. 60 



104 MINOR POEMS 



MAIDENHOOD^ 

Maiden ! with the meek, brown eyes, 
In whose orbs a shadow Ues 
Like the dusk in evening skies ! 

Thou whose locks outshine the sun, 

Golden tresses, wreathed in one, s 

As the braided streamlets run ! 

Standing, with reluctant feet, 
Where the brook and river meet, 
Womanhood and childhood fleet ! 

Gazing, with a timid glance, lo 

On the brooklet's swift advance. 
On the river's broad expanse ! 

Deep and still, that gliding stream 

Beautiful to thee must seem, 

As the river of a dream. 15 

Then why pause with indecision, 
When bright angels in thy vision 
Beckon thee to fields Elysian°? 

Seest thou shadows sailing by, 

As the dove, with startled eye, 20 

Sees the falcon's shadow fly°? 

Hearest thou voices on the shore. 
That our ears perceive no more. 
Deafened by the cataract's roar? 



MAID EN HO OD 105 

O, thou child of many prayers ! 25 

Life hath quicksands, — Life hath snares ! 
Care and age come unawares ! 

Like the swell of some sweet tune, 

Morning rises into noon, 

May glides onward into June. 30 

Childhood is the bough, where slumbered 
Birds and blossoms many-numbered ; — 
Age, that bough with snows encumbered. 

Gather, then, each flower that grows, 

When the young heart overflows, 35 

To embalm that tent of snows. 

Bear a lily in thy hand ; 

Gates of brass cannot withstand 

One touch of that magic wand. 

Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth, 40 

In thy heart the dew of youth, 
On thy lips the smile of truth. 

O, that dew, like balm, shall steal 

Into wounds that cannot heal, 

Even as sleep our eyes doth seal; 4S 

And that smile, like sunshine, dart 
Into many a sunless heart. 
For a smile of God thou art. 



106 MINOR POEMS 



EXCELSIOR° 

The shades of night were falUng fast, 
As through an Alpine village passed 
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, 
A banner with the strange device, 

Excelsior ! 5 

His brow was sad; his eye beneath. 
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath. 
And like a silver clarion rung 
The accents of that unknown tongue. 

Excelsior ! lo 

In happy homes he saw the light 

Of household fires gleam warm and bright; 

Above, the spectral glaciers shone, 

And from his lips escaped a groan. 

Excelsior ! 15 

'^ Try not the Pass !" the old man said; 
'' Dark lowers the tempest overhead, 
The roaring torrent is deep and wide !" 
And loud that clarion voice replied. 

Excelsior ! 20 

'^ Oh stay,'' the maiden said, ^'and rest 
Thy weary head upon this breast !" 
A tear stood in his bright blue eye. 
But still he answered, with a sigh. 

Excelsior ! 25 



SERENADE 107 

" Beware the pine-tree's withered branch ! 
Beware the awful avalanche !" 
This was the peasant's last Good-night, 
A voice replied, far up the height, 

Excelsior ! 3° 

At break of day, as heavenward 
The pious monks of Saint Bernard^ 
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, 
A voice cried tlirough the startled air, 

Excelsior ! ^ 35 

A traveller, by the faithful hound, 
Half-buried in the snow was found, 
Still grasping in his hand of ice 
That banner with the strange device. 

Excelsior ! 4° 

There in the twilight cold and gray, 
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, 
And from the sky, serene and far, 
A voice fell, hke a faUing star, 

Excelsior ! 45 



SERENADE^ 

Stars of the summer night ! 

Far in yon azure deeps, 
Hide, hide your golden light ! 

She sleeps ! 
My lady sleeps ! 

Sleeps ! 



108 MINOR POEMS 



Moon of the summer night ! 

Far down yon western steeps, 
Sink, sink in silver Ught ! 

She sleeps ! 
My lady sleeps ! 

Sleeps ! 

Wind of the summer night ! 

Where yonder woodbine creeps, 
Fold, fold thy pinions light ! 

She sleeps ! 
My lady sleeps ! 

Sleeps ! 

Dreams of the summer night ! 

Tell her, her lover keeps 
Watch ! while in slumbers light 

She sleeps ! 
My lady sleeps ! 

Sleeps ! 



CARILLON° 

In the ancient town of Bruges, ° 
In the quaint old Flemish city, 
As the evening shades descended, 
Low and loud and sweetly blended, 
Low at times and loud at times, 
And changing like a poet's rhymes. 
Rang the beautiful wild chimes 
From the Belfry in the market 
Of the ancient town of Bruges. 



CARILLON 109 

Then, with deep sonorous clangor lo 

Calmly answering their sweet anger, * 

When the wrangling bells had ended, 

Slowly struck the clock eleven, 

And, from out the silent heaven, 

Silence on the town descended. 15 

Silence, silence everywhere. 

On the earth and in the air, 

Save that footsteps here and there 

Of some burgher home returning, 

By the street lamps faintly burning, 20 

For a moment woke the echoes 

Of the ancient town of Bruges. 

But amid my broken slumbers 

Still I heard those magic numbers, 

As they loud proclaimed the flight 25 

And stolen marches of the night; 

Till their chimes in sweet collision 

Mingled with each wandering vision, 

Mingled with the fortune-telling 

Gypsy-bands of dreams and fancies, 30 

Which amid the waste expanses 

Of the silent land of trances 

Have their solitary dwelling ; 

All else seemed asleep in Bruges, 

In the quaint old Flemish city. 35 

And I thought how like these chimes 

Are the poet's airy rhymes. 

All his rhymes and roundelays, ° 

His conceits, and songs, and ditties. 

From the belfry of his brain, 40 



110 MINOR POEMS 

Scattered downward, though in vain, 

0n the roofs and stones of cities ! 

For by night the drowsy ear 

Under its curtains cannot hear, 

And by day men go their ways, 45 

Hearing the music as they pass, 

But deeming it no more, alas ! 

Than the hollow sound of brass. 

Yet perchance a sleepless wight, 

Lodging at some humble inn 50 

In the narrow lanes of life. 

When the dusk and hush of night 

Shut out the incessant din 

Of daylight and. its toil and strife. 

May listen with a calm delight 55 

To the poet's melodies. 

Till he hears, or dreams he hears. 

Intermingled with the song, 

Thoughts that he has cherished long; 

Hears amid the chime and singing 60 

The bells of his own village ringing, 

And wakes, and finds his slumberous eyes 

Wet with most delicious tears. 

Thus dreamed I, as by night I lay 

In Bruges, at the Fleur-de-Ble, 65 

Listening with a wild delight 

To the chimes that, through the night. 

Rang their changes from the Belfry 

Of that quaint old Flemish city. 



THE BELFRY OF BRUGES 111 



THE BELFRY OF BRUGES° 

In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and 

brown ; 
Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches 

o'er the town. 

As the summer morn was breaking, on that lofty tower 

I stood, 
And the world threw off the darkness, like the weeds of 

widowhood. 

Thick with towns and hamlets studded, and with streams 
and vapors gray, 5 

Like a shield embossed with silver, round and vast the 
landscape lay. 

At my feet the city slumbered. From its chimneys, 

here and there, 
Wreaths of snow-white smoke, ascending, vanished, 

ghost-like, into air. 

Not a sound rose from the city at that early morning 

hour. 
But I heard a heart of iron beating in the ancient 

tower. lo 

From their nests beneath the rafters sang the swallows 

wild and high; 
And the world, beneath me sleeping, seem^ed more 

distant than the sky. 



112 MINOR POEMS 

Then most musical and solemn, bringing back the olden 
times, 

With their strange, unearthly changes rang the melan- 
choly chimes, 

Like the psalms from some old cloister, when the nuns 
sing in the choir; 15 

And the great bell tolled among them, like th3 chant- 
ing of a friar. 

Visions of the days departed, shadowy phantoms filled 

my brain; 
They who live in history only seemed to walk the earth 

again ; 

All the Foresters of Flanders, — mighty Baldwin Bras 

de Fer,° 
Lyderick du Bucq and Cressy, Philip, Guy de Dam- 

pierre. 20 

I beheld the pageants splendid that adorned those days 

of old ; 
Stately dames, like queens attended, knights who bore 

the Fleece of Gold°; 

Lombard and Venetian merchants with deep-la ien 

argosies ; 
Ministers from twenty nations; more than royal pomp 

and ease. 

I beheld proud MaximiHan,° kneeling humbly on the 
ground ; 25 

I beheld the gentle Mary,° hunting with her hawk and 
hound ; 



THE BELFRY OF BRUGES 113 

And her lighted bridal-chamber, where a duke slept 

with the queen, 
And the armed guard around them, and the sword 

unsheathed between. 

I beheld the Flemish weavers, with Namur and Juliers 

bold,° 
Marching homeward from the bloody battle of the Spurs 

of Gold; 30 

Saw the fight at Minnewater, saw the White Hoods 

moving west, 
Saw great Artevelde victorious scale the Golden Dragon's 

nest.° 

And again the whiskered Spaniard all the land with 

terror smote ; 
And again the wild alarum sounded from the tocsin's 

throat ; 

Till the bell of Ghent responded o'er lagoon and dike of 
sand, 35 

" I am Roland ! I am Roland ! there is victory in the 
land° ! " 

Then the sound of drums aroused me. The awakened 

city's roar 
Chased the phantoms I had summoned back into their 

graves once more. 

Hours had passed away like minutes ; and, before I 

was aware, 
Lo ! the shadow of the belfry crossed the sun-illumined 

square. 40 



114 MINOR POEMS 



A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE ° 

This is the place. Stand still, my steed, 

Let me review the scene, 
And summon from the shadowy Past 

The forms that once have been. 

The Past and Present here unite 5 

Beneath Time's flowing tide, 
Like footprints hidden by a brook, 

But seen on either side. 

Here runs the highway to the town; 

There the green lane descends, lo 

Through which I walked to church with thee, 

O gentlest of my friends ! 

The shadow of the linden-trees 

Lay moving on the grass ; 
Between them and the moving boughs, 15 

A shadow, thou didst pass. 

Thy dress was like the lilies. 

And thy heart as pure as they 
One of God's holy messengers 

Did walk with me that day. 20 

I saw the branches of the trees 

Bend down thy touch to meet, 
The clover-blossoms in the grass 

Rise up to kiss thy feet. 



A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE 115 

*' Sleep; sleep to-day, tormenting cares, 25 

Of earth and folly born ! " 
Solemnly sang the village choir 

On that sweet Sabbath morn. 

Through the closed blinds the golden sun 

Poured in a dusty beam, 3=* 

Like the celestial ladder seen 
By Jacob in his dream. ° 

And ever and anon, the wind 

Sweet-scented with the hay, 
Turned o'er the hymn-book's fluttering leaves 35 

That on the window lay. 

Long was the good man's sermon, 

Yet it seemed not so to me ; 
For he spake of Ruth the beautiful. 

And still I thought of thee. 4° 

Long was the prayer he uttered. 

Yet it seemed not so to me ; 
For in my heart I prayed with him, 

And still I thought of thee. 

But now, alas ! the place seems changed; 45 

Thou art no longer here : 
Part of the sunshine of the scene 

With thee did disappear. 

Though thoughts, deep-rooted in my heart, 

Like pine-trees dark and high, 5° 

Subdue the light of noon, and breathe 
A low and ceaseless sigh ; 



116 MINOR POEMS 

This memor}^ brightens o'er the past, 

As when the sun, concealed 
Behind some cloud that near us hangs, 55 

Shines on a distant field. 



THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD^ 

This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, 
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms; 

But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing 
Startles the villages with strange alarms. 

Ah ! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary, 5 
When the death-angel touches those swift keys ! 

What loud lament and dismal Miserere ° 
Will mingle with their awful symphonies ! 

I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus. 

The cries of agony, the endless groan, 10 

Which, through the ages that have gone before us. 
In long reverberations reach our own. 

On helm and harness rings the Saxon hammer. 
Through Cimbric forest roars the Norseman's song,° 

And loud, amid the universal clamor, 15 

O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong.° 

I hear the Florentine, who from his palace 
Wheels out his battle-bell with dreadful din, 

And Aztec priests upon their teocallis° 

Beat the wild war-drums made of serpent's skin ; 20 



THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD 111 

The tumult of each sacked and burning village; 

The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns; 
The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage; 

The wail of famine in beleaguered towns; 

The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder, 25 
The rattling musketry, the clashing blade; 

And ever and anon, in tones of thunder 
The diapason of the cannonade. ° 

Is it, O man, with such discordant noises, 

With such accursed instruments as these, 30 

Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices. 
And j arrest the celestial harmonies ? 

Were half the power that fills the world with terror, 
Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and 
courts. 

Given to redeem the human mind from error, 35 
There were no need of arsenals or forts : 

The warrior's name would be a name abhorred ! 

And every nation, that should lift again 
Its hand against a brother, on its forehead 

Would wear forevermore the curse of Cain° ! 40 

Down the dark future, through long generations, 
The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease; 

And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, 
I hear once more the voice of Christ say, "Peace !" 

Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals 45 
The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies! 

But beautiful as songs of the immortals, 
The holy melodies of love arise. 



118 MINOR POEMS 



RAIN IN SUMMER 

How beautiful is the rain ! 

After the dust and heat, 

In the broad and fiery street, 

In the narrow lane, 

How beautiful is the rain ! 5 

How it clatters along the roofs. 

Like the tramp of hoofs ! 

How it gushes and struggles out 

From the throat of the overflowing spout ! 

Across the window-pane lo 

It pours and pours; 

And swift and wide, 

With a muddy tide, 

Like a river down the gutter roars 

The rain, the welcome rain ! 15 

The sick man from his chamber looks 

At the twisted brooks; 

He can feel the cool 

Breath of each little pool; 

His fevered brain 20 

Grows calm again. 

And he breathes a blessing on the rain. 

From the neighboring school 

Come the boys. 

With more than their wonted noise 25 

And commotion; 



RAIN IN SUMMER 119 

And down the wet streets 

vSail their mimic fleets, 

Till the treacherous pool 

Ingulfs them in its whirling 30 

And turbulent ocean. 

In the country, on every side, 

Where far and wide. 

Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide, 

Stretches the plain, 35 

To the dry grass and the drier grain 

How welcome is the rain ! 

In the furrowed land 

The toilsome and patient oxen stand; 

Lifting the yoke-encumbered head, 40 

With their dilated nostrils spread, 

They silently inhale 

The clover-scented gale. 

And the vapors that arise 

From the well-watered and smoking soil. 45 

For this rest in the furrow after toil 

Their large and lustrous eyes 

Seem to thank the Lord, 

More than man's spoken word. 



Near at hand. 

From under the sheltering trees, 

The farmer sees 

His pastures, and his fields of grain, 

As they bend their tops 

To the numberless beating drops 

Of the incessant rain. 



50 



55 



120 MINOR POEMS 

He counts it as no sin 

That he sees therein 

Only his own thrift and gain. 

These, and far more than these, 60 

The Poet sees ! 

He can behold 

Aquarius old° 

Walking the fenceless fields of air : 

And from each ample fold 65 

Of the clouds about him rolled 

Scattering everywhere 

The showery rain, 

As the farmer scatters his grain. 

He can behold 7° 

Things manifold 

That have not yet been wholly told ; — 
Have not been wholly sung nor said. 
For his thought, that never stops, 
Follows the water-drops 75 

Down to the graves of the dead, 
Down through chasms and gulfs profound, 
To the dreary fountain-head 
Of lakes and rivers under ground ; 
' And sees them, when the rain is done, 80 

On the bridge of colors seven° 
Climbing up once more to heaven, 
Opposite the setting sun. 

Thus the Seer, 

With vision clear, 85 

Sees forms appear and disappear. 



THE BRIDGE 121 

In the perpetual round of strange, 

Mysterious change 

From birth to death, from death to birth, 

From earth to heaven, from heaven to earth; 90 

Till glimpses more sublime 

Of things unseen before, 

Unto his wondering eyes reveal 

The Universe, as an immeasurable wheel 

Turning forevermore 95 

In the rapid and rushing river of Time. 



THE BRIDGE^ 

I STOOD on the bridge at midnight. 
As the clocks were striking the hour, 

And the moon rose o'er the city. 
Behind the dark church-tower. 

I saw her bright reflection 5 

In the waters under me. 
Like a golden goblet falling 

And sinking into the sea. 

And far in the hazy distance 

Of that lovely night in June, 10 

The blaze of the flaming furnace 

Gleamed redder than the moon. 

Among the long, black rafters 

The wavering shadows lay. 
And the current that came from the ocean 15 

Seemed to lift and bear them away; 



122 MINOR POEMS 

As, sweeping and eddying through them, 

Rose the belated tide, 
And, streaming into the moonhght. 

The seaweed floated wide. 20 

And like those waters rushing 

Among the wooden piers, 
A flood of thoughts came o'er me 

That filled my eyes with tears. 

How often, oh how often, 25 

In the days that had gone by, 
I had stood on that bridge at midnight 

And gazed on that wave and sky ! 

How often, oh how often, 

I had wished that the ebbing tide 30 

Would bear me away on its bosom 

O'er the ocean wild and wide ! 

For my heart was hot and restless, 

And my life was full of care. 
And the burden laid upon me 35 

Seemed greater than I could bear. 

But now it has fallen from me, 

It is buried in the sea; 
And only the sorrow of others 

Throws its shadow over me. 40 

Yet whenever I cross the river 
On its bridge with wooden piers. 

Like the odor of brine from the ocean 
Comes the thought of other years. . 



THE DAY IS DONE 123 

And I think how many thousands as 

Of care-encumbered men, 
Each bearing his burden of sorrow, 

Have crossed the bridge since then. 

I see the long procession 

Still passing to and fro, 50 

The young heart hot and restless, 

And the old subdued and slow ! 

And forever and forever, 

As long as the river flows. 
As long as the heart has passions, 55 

As long as life has woes; 

The moon and its broken reflection 

And its shadows shall appear, 
As the symbol of love in heaven, 

And its wavering image here. 60 



THE DAY IS DONE 

The day is done, and the darkness 
Falls from the wings of Night, 

As a feather is wafted downward 
From an eagle in his flight. 

I see the lights of the village 

Gleam through the rain and the mist, 
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me 

That my soul cannot resist : 



124 MINOR POEMS 

A feeling of sadness and longing, 

That is not akin to pain, lo 

And resembles sorrow only 

As the mist resembles the rain. 

Come, read to me some poem, 

Some simple and heartfelt lay, 
That shall soothe this restless feeling, 15 

And banish the thoughts of day. 

Not from the grand old masters, 

Not from the bards sublime. 
Whose distant footsteps echo 

Through the corridors of Time. 20 

For, like strains of martial music, 

Their mighty thoughts suggest 
Life's endless toil and endeavor; 

And to-night I long for rest. 

Read from some humbler poet, 25 

Whose songs giished from his heart, 

As showers from the clouds of summer, 
Or tears from the eyelids start; 

Who, through long days of labor. 

And nights devoid of ease, 30 

Still heard in his soul the music 
Of wonderful melodies. 

Such songs have power to quiet 

The restless pulse of care, 
And come like the benediction 35 

That follows after prayer. 



THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS 125 

Then read from the treasured volume 

The poem of thy choice, 
And lend to the rhyme of the poet 

The beauty of thy voice. 40 

And the night shall be filled with music, 

And the cares, that infest the day, 
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, 

And as silently steal away. 



THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS 

Somewhat back from the village street 

Stands the old-fashioned country-seat. ° 

Across its antique portico 

Tall poplar- trees their shadows throw; 

And from its station in the hall 5 

An ancient timepiece says to all, — 

'' Forever — never ! 

Never — forever !" 

Half-way up the stairs it stands. 

And points and beckons with its hands 10 

From its case of massive oak. 

Like a monk, who, under his cloak, 

Crosses himself, and sighs, alas ! 

With sorrowful voice to all who pass, — 

'' Forever — never ! 15 

Never — forever !'' 

By day its voice is low and light; 
But in the silent dead of night, 



126 MINOR POEMS 

Distinct as a passing footstep's fall, 

It echoes along the vacant hall, 20 

Along the ceiling, along the floor, 

And seems to say, at each chamber-door, — 

'' Forever — never ! 

Never — forever ! " 

Through days of sorrow and of mirth, 25 

Through days of death and days of birth, 

Through every swift vicissitude 

Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood. 

And as if, like God, it all things saw, 

It calmly repeats those words of awe, — 30 

" Forever — never ! 

Never — forever ! '' 

In that mansion used to be 

Free-hearted Hospitality ; 

His great fires up the chimney roared; 35 

The stranger feasted at his board ; 

But, like the skeleton at the feast, 

That warning timepiece never ceased, — 

" Forever — never ! 

Never — forever !" 40 

There groups of merry children played. 

There youths and maidens dreaming strayed; 

O precious hours ! O golden prime, 

And affluence of love and time ! 

Even as a miser counts his gold, 4S 

Those hours the ancient timepiece told, — 

'' Forever — never ! 

Never — forever !" 



THE ARROW AND THE SONG 127 

From that chamber, clothed in white, 

The bride came forth on her wedding night ; 50 

There, in that silent room below, 

The dead lay in his shroud of snow ; 

And in the hush that followed the prayer, 

Was heard the old clock on the stair, — 

" Forever — never ! 5S 

Never — forever ! " 

All are scattered now and fled. 

Some are married, some are dead; 

And when I ask, with throbs of pain, 

"Ah ! when shall they all meet again?" 60 

As in the days long since gone by. 

The ancient timepiece makes reply, — 

" Forever — never ! 

Never — forever !" 

Never here, forever there, 65 

Where all parting, pain, and care, 

And death, and time shall disappear, — 

Forever there, but never here ! 

The horologe of Eternity ° 

Sayeth this incessantl}^ — 70 

" Forever — never ! 

Never — forever !" 



THE ARROW AND THE SONG' 

I SHOT an arrow into the air. 
It fell to earth, I knew not where; 
For, so swiftly it fiew, the sight 
Could not follow it in its flight. 



128 MINOR POEMS 

I breathed a song into the air, 5 

It fell to earth, I knew not where ; 
For who has sight so keen and strong. 
That it can follow the flight of song ? 

Long, long afterward, in an oak 

I found the arrow, still unbroke; lo 

And the song, from beginning to end, 

I found again in the heart of a friend. 



AUTUMN 



Thou comest. Autumn, heralded by the rain. 
With banners, by great gales incessant fanned, 
Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand,° 
And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain ! 

Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne, ° 5 

Upon thy bridge of gold ; thy royal hand 
Outstretched with benedictions o'er the land. 
Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain ! 

Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspended ° 

So long beneath the heaven's o'erhanging eaves ; lo 
Thy steps are by the farmer's prayers attended; 

Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves; 
And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid. 
Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves ! 



DANTE° 



Tuscan, that wanderest through the realms of gloom, 
With thoughtful pace, and sad, majestic eyes. 
Stern thoughts and awful from thy soul arise, 
Like Farinata froni his fiery tomb.° 



CURFEW 129 

Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom; s 

Yet in thy heart what human sympathies, 
What soft compassion glows, as in the skies 
The tender stars their clouded lamps relume ! 

Methinks I see thee stand with pallid cheeks 

By Fra Hilario in his diocese, lo 

As up the convent-walls, in golden streaks, 

The ascending sunbeams mark the day's decrease; 
And, as he asks what there the stranger seeks. 
Thy voice along the cloister whispers "Peace \" 



CURFEW 



Solemnly, mournfully, 

Dealing its dole, 
The Curfew Bell° 

Is beginning to toll. 

Cover the embers, 5 

And put out the light; 
Toil comes with, the morning, 

And rest with the night. 

Dark grow the windows. 

And quenched is the fire; lo 

Sound fades into silence, — 

All footsteps retire. 

No voice in the chambers, 

No sound in the hall ! 
Sleep and oblivion 15 

Reign over all ! 



130 MINOR POEMS 



II 



The book is completed, 

And closed, like the day; 
And the hand that has written it 

Lays it away. 20 

Dim grows its fancies ; 

Forgotten they lie; 
Like coals in the ashes, 

They darken and die. 

Song sinks into silence, 25 

The story is told. 
The windows are darkened, 

The hearth-stone is cold. 

Darker and darker 

The black shadows fall ; 30 

Sleep and oblivion 

Reign over all. 



THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP° 

"Build me straight, O worthy Master! 

Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel. 
That shall laugh at all disaster, 

And with wave and whirlwind wrestle ! " 

The merchant's word 
Delighted the Master heard; 



THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP 131 

For his heart was in his work, and the heart 

Giveth grace unto every Art. 

A quiet smile played round his lips, 

As the eddies and dimples of the tide lo 

Play round the bows of ships, 

That steadily at anchor ride. 

And with a voice that was full of glee, 

He answered, '' Erelong we will launch 

A vessel as goodly, and strong, and stanch, 15 

As ever weathered a wintry sea ! " 

And first with nicest skill and art, 

Perfect and finished in every part, 

A little model the Master wrought, 

Which should be to the larger plan 20 

What the child is to the man, * 

Its counterpart in miniature ; 

That with a hand more swift and sure 

The greater labor might be brought 

To answer to his inward thought. 25 

And as he labored, his mind ran o'er 

The various ships that were built of yore, 

And above them all, and strangest of all 

Towered the Great Harry, ° crank° and tall. 

Whose picture was hanging on the wall, 30 

With bows and stern raised high in air. 

And balconies hanging here and there, 

And signal lanterns and flags afloat, 

And eight round towers, like those that frown 

From some old castle, looking down 35 

Upon the drawbridge and the moat. 

And he said with a smile, '' Our ship, I wis,° 

Shall be of another form than this ! " 

It was of another form, indeed ; 



132 MINOR POEMS 

Built for freight, and yet for speed, 40 

A beautiful and gallant craft; 

Broad in the beam, that the stress of the blast, 

Pressing down upon sail and mast. 

Might not the sharp bows overwhelm ; 

Broad in the beam, but sloping aft 4S 

With graceful curve and slow degrees. 

That she might be docile to the helm, 

And that the currents of parted seas, 

Closing behind, with mighty force, 

Might aid and not impede her course. 50 

In the shipyard stood the Master, 
With thje model of the vessel, 
That should laugh at all disaster. 
And with wave and whirlwind wrestle ! 

Covering many a rood of ground, 55 

Lay the timber piled around; 

Timber of chestnut, and elm, and oak. 

And scattered here and there, with these, 

The knarred and crooked cedar knees; 

Brought from regions far away, 60 

From Pascagoula's sunny bay,° 

And the banks of the roaring Roanoke ° ! 

Ah ! what a wondrous thing it is 

To note how many wheels of toil 

One thought, one word, can set in motion ! 65 

There's not a ship that sails the ocean, 

But every climate, every soil, 

Must bring its tribute, great or small. 

And help to build the wooden wall° ! 



THE BUILDING OF" THE SHIP 133 

The sun was rising o'er the sea, 7° 

And long the level shadows lay, 

As if they, too, the beams would be 

Of some great, airy argosy, ° 

Framed and launched in a single day. 

That silent architect, the sun, 75 

Had hewn and laid them every one. 

Ere the work of man was yet begun. 

Beside the Master, when he spoke, 

A youth, against an anchor leaning. 

Listened, to catch his slightest meaning. 80 

Only the long waves, as they broke 

In ripples on the pebbly beach. 

Interrupted the old man's speech. 

Beautiful they were, in sooth, 

The old man and the fiery youth ! 85 

The old man, in whose busy brain 

Many a ship that sailed the main 

Was modelled o'er and o'er again; — 

The fiery youth, who was to be 

The heir of his dexterity, 9°' 

The heir of his house, and his daughter's hand, 

When he had built and launched from land 

What the elder head had planned. 

''Thus," said he, "will we build this ship ! 

Lay square the blocks upon the slip,° 95 

And follow well this plan of mine. 

Choose the timbers with greatest care ; 

Of all that is unsound beware ; 

For only what is sound and strong 

To this vessel shall belong. 100 



134 MINOR POEMS 

Cedar of Maine and Georgia pine 

Here together shall combine. 

A goodly frame, and a goodly fame, 

And the Union be her name ! 

For the day that gives her to the sea 105 

Shall give my daughter unto thee ! '^ 

The Master's word 

Enraptured the young man heard; 

And as he turned his face aside, 

With a look of joy and a thrill of pride, no 

Standing before 

Her father's door, 

He saw the forrn of his promised bride. 

The sun shone on her golden hair, 

And her cheek was glowing fresh and fair, 115 

With the breath of morn and the soft sea air. 

Like a beauteous barge was she. 

Still at rest on the sandy beach. 

Just beyond the billow's reach; 

But he 120 

Was the restless, seething, stormy sea ! 

Ah, how skilful grows the hand 

That obeyeth Love's command ! 

It is the heart, and not the brain, 

That to the highest doth attain, 125 

And he who followeth Love's behest 

Far exceedeth all the rest ! ° 

Thus with the rising of the sun 

Was the noble task begun. 

And soon throughout the shipyard's bounds 130 

Were heard the intermingled sounds 



THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP 135 

Of axes and of mallets, plied 

With vigorous arms on every side ; 

Plied so deftly and so well, 

That, ere the shadows of evening fell, 135 

The keel of oak for a noble ship, 

Scarfed° and bolted, straight and strong, 

Was lying ready, and stretched along 

The blocks, well placed upon the slip. 

Happy, thrice happy, every one 140 

Who sees his labor well begun, 

And not perplexed and multiplied, 

By idly waiting for time and tide ! 

And when the hot, long day was o'er, 

The young man at the Master's door 145 

Sat with the maiden calm and still, 

And within the porch, a little more 

Removed beyond the evening chill. 

The father sat, and told them tales 

Of wrecks in the great September gales, 150 

Of pirates upon the Spanish Main, 

And ships that never came back again. 

The chance and change of a sailor's life, 

Want and plenty, rest and strife. 

His roving fancy, like the wind, 155 

That nothing can stay and nothing can bind, 

And the magic charm of foreign lands, • 

With shadows of palms, and shining sands, 

Where the tuml^ling surf. 

O'er the coral reefs of Madagascar, ° 160 

Washes the feet of the swarthy Lascar, ° 

As he lies alone and asleep on the turf. 

And the trembling maiden held her breath 



136 MINOR POEMS 

At the tales of that awful, pitiless sea, 

With all its terror and mystery, 165 

The dim, dark sea, so like unto Death, 

That divides and yet unites mankind ! 

And whenever the old man paused, a gleam 

From the bowl of his pipe would awhile illume . 

The silent group in the twilight gloom, 170 

And thoughtful faces, as in a dream; 

And for a moment one might mark 

What had been hidden by the dark. 

That the head of the maiden lay at rest, 

Tenderly, on the young man's breast ! 17s 

Day by day the vessel grew, 

With timbers fashioned strong and true, 

Stemson and keelson and sternson-knee^° 

Till, framed with perfect symmetry, 

A skeleton ship rose up to view ! 180 

And around the bows and along the side 

The heavy hammers and mallets plied, 

Till after many a week, at length. 

Wonderful for form and strength. 

Sublime in its enormous bulk, 185 

Loomed aloft the shadowy hulk ! 

And around it columns of smoke, upwreathing. 

Rose from the boiling, bubbling, seething 

Caldrofi, that glowed, 

And overflowed 190 

With the black tar, heated for the sheathing. 

And amid the clamors 

Of clattering hammers. 

He who listened heard now and then 

The song of the Master and his men : — 195 



THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP 137 

" Build me straight, O wortiiy Master, 

Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel. 
That shall laugh at all disaster 

And with wave and whirlwind wrestle ! '' 

With oaken brace and copper band, 200 

Lay the rudder on the sand, 

That, like a thought, should have control 

Over the movement of the whole; 

And near it the anchor, whose giant hand 

Would reach down and grapple with the land, 205 

And immovable and fast 

Hold the great ship against the bellowing blast ! 

And at the bows an image stood, 

By a cunning artist carved in wood, 

With robes of white, that far behind 210 

Seemed to be fluttering in the wind. 

It was not shaped in a classic mould, 

Not like a Nymph or Goddess of old, 

Or Naiad rising from the water, ° 

But modelled from the Master's daughter ! 215 

On many a dreary and misty night, 

'Twill be seen by the rays of the signal light, 

Speeding along through the rain and the dark, 

Like a ghost in its snow-w^hite sark,° 

The pilot of some phantom bark, sso 

Guiding the vessel, in its flight. 

By a path none other knows aright ! 

Behold, at last. 

Each tall and tapering mast 

Is swung into its place 225 



138 MINOR POEMS 

Shrouds and stays 
Holding it firm and fast ! 

Long ago, 

In the deer-haunted forests of Maine, 

When upon mountain and plain 230 

Lay the snow, 

They fell, — those lordly pines ! 

Those grand, majestic pines ! 

'Mid shouts and cheers 

The jaded steers, 235 

Panting beneath the goad. 

Dragged down the weary, winding road 

Those captive kings so straight and tall, 

To be shorn of their streaming hair, 

And naked and bare, 240 

To feel the stress and the strain 

Of the wind and the reeling main, 

Whose roar 

Would remind them forevermore 

Of their native forests they should not see 

again. 245 

And everywhere 

The slender, graceful spars 

Poise aloft in the air. 

And at the mast-head, 

White, blue, and red, 250 

A flag unrolls the stripes and stars. 

Ah ! when the wanderer, lonely, friendless, 

In foreign harbors shall beh(jld 

That flag unrolled, 

'Twill be as a friendlv hand 255 



THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP 139 

Stretched out from his native land, 

Fining his heart with memories sweet and endless ! 

All is finished ! and at length 

Has come the bridal day 

Of beauty and of strength. 260 

To-day the vessel shall be launched ! 

With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched, 

And o'er the bay, 

Slowly, in all his splendors dight. 

The great sun rises to behold the sight. 265 

The ocean old. 

Centuries old, 

Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled, 

Paces restless to and fro, 

Up and down the sands of gold. 270 

His beating heart is not at rest; 

And far and wide, 

With ceaseless flow, 

His beard of snow 

Heaves with the heaving of his breast. 275 

He waits impatient for his bride. 

There she stands. 

With her foot upon the sands. 

Decked \yith flags and streamers gay, 

In honor of her marriage day, 280 

Her snow-white signals fluttering, blending, 

Round her like a veil descending. 

Ready to be 

The bride of the gray old sea. 

On the deck another bride 285 

Is standing by her lover's side. 



140 MINOR POEMS 

Shadows frvom the flags and shrouds, 

Like the shadows cast by clouds, 

Broken by many a sudden fleck, 

FaU around them on the deck. ago 

The prayer is said, 

The service read, 

The joyous bridegroom bows his head; 

And in tears the good old Master 

Shakes the brown hand of his son, 295 

Kisses his daughter's glowing cheek 

In silence, for he cannot speak. 

And ever faster 

Down his own the tears begin to run. 

The worthy pastor — 300 

The shepherd of that wandering flock, 

That has the ocean for its wold. 

That has the vessel for its fold. 

Leaping ever from rock to rock — 

Spake, with accents mild and clear, 305 

Words of warning, words of cheer, 

But tedious to the bridegroom's ear. 

He knew the chart 

Of the sailor's heart, 

All its pleasures and its griefs, 310 

All its shallows and rocky reefs, 

All those secret currents, that flow 

With such resistless undertow. 

And lift and drift, with terrible force. 

The will from its moorings and its course. 315 

Therefore he spake, and thus said he: — 

" Like unto ships far off at sea, 
Outward or homeward bound, are we. 



THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP 141 

Before, behind, and all around. 

Floats and swings the horizon's bound, 320 

Seems at its distant rim to rise 

And climb the crystal wall of the skies, 

And then again to turn and sink. 

As if we could slide from its outer brink. 

Ah ! it is not the sea, 325 

It is not the sea that sinks and shelves, 

But ourselves 

That rock and rise 

With endless and uneasy motion, 

Now touching the very skies, 330 

Now sinking into the depths of ocean. 

Ah ! if our souls but poise and swing 

Like the compass in its brazen ring, 

Ever level and ever true 

To the toil and the task we have to do, 335 

We shall sail securely, and safely reach 

The Fortunate Isles, ° on whose shining beach 

The sights we see, and the sounds we hear. 

Will be those of joy and not of fear ! " 

Then the Master, 340 

With a gesture of command, 

Waved his hand; 

And at the word. 

Loud and sudden there was heard. 

All around them and below, 345 

The sound of hammers, blow on blow, 

Knocking away the shores and spurs. ° 

And see ! she stirs ! 

She starts, — she moves, — she seems to feel 

The thrill of life along her keel, 350 



142 MINOR POEMS 

And, spurning with her foot the ground, 

With one exulting, joyous bound, 

She leaps into the ocean's arms ! 

And lo ! from the assembled crowd 

There rose a shout, prolonged and loud, 3SS 

That to the ocean seemed to say, 

'^Take her, O bridegroom, old and gray, 

Take her to thy protecting arms. 

With all her youth and all her charms ! " 

How beautiful she is ! How fair 360 

She lies within those arms, that press 

Her form with many a soft caress 

Of tenderness and watchful care ! 

Sail forth into the sea, O ship ! 

Through wind and wave, right onward steer ! 365 

The moistened eye, the trembling Up, 

Are not the signs of doubt or fear. 

Sail forth into the sea of life, 

O gentle, loving, trusting wife, 

And safe from all adversity 370 

Upon the bosom of that sea 

Thy comings and thy goings be ! 

For gentleness and love and trust 

Prevail o'er angry wave and gust ! 

And in the wreck of noble lives 375 

Something immortal still survives ! 

Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State ! 

Sail on, O Union, strong and great! 

Humanity with all its fears. 

With all the hopes of future years, 380 

Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 



SEA WEED 143 

We know what Master laid thy keel, 

What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, 

Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 

What anvils rang, what hammers beat, 385 

In what a forge and what a heat 

Were shaped the anchors of thy hope ! 

Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 

'Tis of the wave and not the rock; 

'Tis but the flapping of the sail, 390 

And not a rent made by the gale ! 

In spite of rock and tempest's roar, 

In spite of false lights on the shore, 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! 

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, 395 

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 

Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, 

Are all with thee, — are all with thee ! 



SEAWEED 



When descends on the Atlantic 

The gigantic 
Storm-wind of the equinox, ° 
Landward in his wrath he scourges 

The toiling surges, 5 

Laden with seaweed from the rocks; 

From Bermuda's reefs ; from edges 

Of sunken ledges. 
In some far-off, bright Azore; 
From Bahama, and the dashhig, 10 

Silver-flashing 
Surges of San Salvador; 



144 MINOR POEMS 

From the tumbling surf, that buries 

The 0rlvne3^an skerries, ° 
Answering the hoarse Hebrides; 15 

And from wrecks of ships, and drifting 

Spars, uphfting 
On the desolate, rainy seas; — 

Ever drifting, drifting, drifting 

On the shifting . 20 

Currents of the restless main; 
Till in sheltered coves, and reaches 

Of sandy beaches, 
All have found repose again. 

So when storms of wild emotion 25 

Strike the ocean 
Of the poet's soul, erelong 
From each cave and rocky fastness, 

In its vastness. 
Floats some fragment of a song : 30 

From the far-off isles enchanted, 

Heaven has planted 
With the golden fruit of Truth ; 
From the flashing surf, whose vision 

Gleams Elysian 35 

In the tropic clime of Youth; 

From the strong Will, and the Endeavor 

That forever 
Wrestle with the tides of Fate ; 
From the wreck of Hopes far-scattered, 40 

Tempest-shattered, 
Floating waste and desolate ; — 



THE SECRET OF THE SEA 145 

Ever drifting, drifting, drifting 

On the shifting 
Currents of the restless heart; as 

Till at length in books recorded, 

They, like hoarded 
Household words, no more depart. 



THE SECRET OF THE SEA 

Ah ! what pleasant visions haunt me 

As I gaze upon the sea ! 
All the old romantic legends, 

All my dreams, come back to me. 

Sails of silk and ropes of sandal, 5 

Such as gleam in ancient lore ; 
And the singing of the sailors. 

And the answer from the shore ! 

Most of all, the Spanish ballad 

Haunts me oft, and tarries long, 10 

Of the noble Count Arnaldos 

And the sailor's mystic song. 

Like the long waves on a sea-beach, 

Where the sand as silver shines. 
With a soft, monotonous cadence, 15 

Flow its unrhymed lyric lines ; — 

Telling how the Count Arnaldos, 

With his hawk upon his hand. 
Saw a fair and stately galley, 

Steering onward to the land ; — ■ 



ao 



146 MINOR POEMS 

How he heard the ancient helmsman 

Chant a song so wild and clear, 
That the sailing sea-bird slowly 

Poised upon the mast to hear, 

Till his soul was full of longing, 25 

And he cried, with impulse strong, — 

*' Helmsman ! for the love of heaven, 
Teach me, too, that wondrous song ! " 

^' Wouldst thou," — so the helmsman answered, 
' ' Learn the secret of the sea ? 30 

Only those who brave its dangers 
Comprehend its mystery ! " 

In each sail that skims the horizon, 

In each landward-blowing breeze, 
I behold that stately galley, 35 

Hear those mournful melodies; 

Till my soul is full of longing 

For the secret of the sea, 
And the heart of the great ocean 

Sends a thrilling pulse through me. 40 



TWILIGHT 

The twilight is sad and cloudy. 
The wind blows wild and free. 

And like the wings of sea-birds 
Flash the white caps of the sea. 



SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT UT 

But in the fisherman's cottage 5 

There shines a ruddier light, 
And a Ht^le face at the window 

Peers out into the night. 

Close, close it is pressed to the window, 

As if those childish eyes jo 

Were looking into the darkness 
To see some form arise. 

And a woman's waving shadow 

Is passing to and fro, 
Now rising to the ceiling, i^ 

Now bowing and bending low. 

What tale do the roaring ocean, 

And the night-wind, bleak and wild, 

As they beat at the crazy casement, 

Tell to that little child ? 20 

And why do the roaring ocean. 

And the night-wind, wild and bleak, 

As they beat at the heart of the mother 
Drive the color from her cheek ? 



SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT^ 

Southward with fleet of ice 
Sailed the corsair Death °; 

Wild and fast blew the blast. 

And the east-wind was his breath. 



148 MINOR POEMS 

His lordly ships of ice S 

Glisten in the sun ; 
On each side, like pennons wide. 

Flashing crystal streaml-ets run. 

His sails of white sea-mist 

Dripped with silver rain; lo 

But where he passed there were cast 

Leaden shadows o'er the main. 

Eastward from Campobello° 

Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed; 
Three days or more seaward he bore, 15 

Then, alas ! the land-wind failed. 

Alas ! the land-wind failed, 

And ice-cold grew the night; 
And nevermore, on sea or shore, 

Should Sir Humphrey see the light. 20 

He sat upon the deck. 

The Book was in his hand ; 
*' Do not fear ! Heaven is as near,'' 

He said, '' by water as b}^ land ! " 

In the first watch of the night, 25 

Without a signal's sound. 
Out of the sea, mysteriously. 

The fleet of Death rose all around. 

The moon and the evening star 

Were hanging in the shrouds; 30 

Every mast, as it passed. 

Seemed to rake the passing clouds. 



THE LIGHTHOUSE 149 

They grappled with their prize, 

At midnight black and cold ! 
As of a rock was the shock ; 35 

Heavily the ground-swell roiled.^ 

Southward through day and dark, 

They drift in close embrace, 
With mist and rain to the Spanish Main/ 

Yet there seems no change of place. 40 

Southward, forever southward, 
They drift through dark and day; 

And like a dream, in the Gulf-Stream 
Sinking, vanish all away. 



o 



THE LIGHTHOUSE^ 

The rocky ledge runs far into the sea, 
And on its outer point, some miles away, 

The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry, 
A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by (^y.° 

Even at this distance I can see the tides, 
Upheaving, break unheard along its base, 

A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides 
In the white lip and tremor of the face. 

And as the evening darkens, lo ! how bright. 
Through the deep purple of the twilight air. 

Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light 
With strange, unearthly splendor in the glare ! 



150 MINOIi POEMS 

Not one alone ; from each projecting cape 
And perilous reef along the ocean's verge, 

Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape, 15 

Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge. 

Like the great giant Christopher ° it stands 
Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave, 

Wacling far out among the rocks and sands, 

The night-o'ertaken mariner to save. 20 

And the great ships sail outward and return, 
Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells, 

And ever joyful, as they see it burn. 

They wave their silent welcomes and farewells. 

They come forth from the darkness, and their sails 25 
Gleam for a moment only in the blaze, 

And eager faces, as the light unveils, 

Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze. 

The mariner remembers when a child, 

On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink; 30 

And when, returning from adventures wild, 

He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink. 

Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same 

Year after year, through all the silent night 

Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame, 35 

Shines on that inextinguishable light ! 

It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp 
The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace; 

It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp, 
And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece. 4° 



THE FIRE OF DRIFT-WOOD 151 

The startled waves leap over it ; the storm 
Smites it with all the scourges of the rain, 

And steadily against its solid form 

Press the great shoulders of the hurricane. 

The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din 45 

Of wings and winds and solitary cries, 
Blinded and maddened by the light within, 

Dashes himself against the glare, and dies. 

A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock,° 

Still grasping in his hand the fire of Jove, 50 

It does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock, 
But hails the mariner with words of love. 

'' Sail on ! " it says, '^ sail on, ye stately ships ! 

And with your floating bridg'e the ocean span; 
Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse, 55 

Be yours to bring man nearer unto man ! " 



THE FIRE OF DRIFT-WOOD 

We sat within the farm-house old. 
Whose windows, looking o'er the bay, 

Gave to the sea-breeze, damp and cold 
An easy entrance, night and day. 

Not far away we saw the port, 

The strange, old-fashioned, silent town. 
The lighthouse, the dismantled fort. 

The wooden houses, quaint and brown. 



5 



MINOR POEMS 

We sat and talked until the night, 

Descending, filled the little room; lo 

Our faces faded from the sight. 

Our voices only broke the gloom. 

We spake of many a vanished scene. 
Of what we once had thought and said. 

Of what had been, and might have been, 15 

And who was changed, and who was dead; 

And all that fills the hearts of friends. 
When first they feel, with secret pain, 

Their lives thenceforth have separate ends, 

And never can be one again; 20 

The first slight swerving of the heart, 
That words are powerless to express, 

And leave it still unsaid in part, 
Or say it in too great excess. 

The very tones in which we spake 25 

Had something strange, I could but mark; 

The leaves of memory seemed to make 
A mournful rustling in the dark. 

Oft died the words upon our lips. 

As suddenly, from out the fire 3° 

Built of the wreck of stranded ships, 

The flames would leap and then expire. 

And, as their splendor flashed and failed. 
We thought of wrecks upon the main. 

Of ships dismasted, that, were hailed 35 

And sent no answer back again. 



RESIGNATION 153 

The windows, rattling in their frames, 

The ocean, roaring up the beach. 
The gusty blast, the bickering flames, 

All mingled vaguely in our speech; 40 

Until they made themselves a part 
Of fancies floating through the brain, 

The long-lost ventures of the heart, 
That send no answers back again. 

O flames that glowed ! O hearts that yearned ! 45 

They were indeed too much akin, 
The drift-wood fire without that burned, 

The thoughts that burned and glowed within. 



RESIGNATION 

There is no flock, however watched and tended, 

But one dead lamb is there ! 
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, 

But has one vacant chair ! 

The air is full of farewells to the dying, 

And mournings for the dead ; 
The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, 

Will not be comforted ° ! 

Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions 

Not from the ground arise, ° k 

But oftentimes celestial benedictions 
Assume this dark disguise. 



154 MI^i^OR POEMS 

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors 

Amid these earthly damps. 
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers is 

May be heaven's distant lamps. 

There is no Death ! What seems so is transition. 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 

Whose portal we call Death. ^ 20 

She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — ^ 

But gone unto that school 
Where she no longer needs our poor protection, 

And Christ himself doth rule. 

In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, 25 

By guardian angels led, 
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, 

She lives, whom we call dead. 

Day after day we think what she is doing 

In those bright realms of air; 30 

Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, 
Behold her grown more fair. 

Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken 

The bond which nature gives, 
Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, 35 

May reach her where she lives. 

Not as a child shall we again behold her; 

For when with raptures wild 
In our embraces we again enfold her, 

She will not be a child; 40 



THE BUILDER^S 155 

But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, 

Clothed with celestial grace ; 
And beautiful with all the soul's expansion 

Shall we behold her face. 

And though at times impetuous with emotion 45 

And anguish long suppressed, 
The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean, 

That cannot be at rest, — 

We will be patient, and assuage the feeling 

We may not wholly stay ; 5° 

By silence sanctifying, not concealing, 
The grief that must have way. 



THE BUILDERS° 

All are architects of Fate, 

Working in these walls of Time ; 

Some with massive deeds and great^ 
Some with ornaments of rhyme. 

Nothing useless is, or low; 

Each thing in its place is best; 
And what seems but idle show 

Strengthens and supports the rest. 

For the structure that we raise, 
Time is with materials filled ; 

Our to-days and yesterdays 

Are the blocks with which we build. 



156 MINOB POEMS 

Truly shape and fashion these; 

Leave no yawning gaps between ; 
Think not, because no man sees, 15 

Such things will remain unseen. 

In the elder days of Art, 

Builders wrought with greatest care 

Each minute and unseen part; 

For the Gods see everywhere. 20 

Let us do our work as well, 
Both the unseen and the seen ; 

Make the house, where Gods»may dwell, 
Beautiful, entire, and clean. 

Else our lives are incomplete, 25 

Standing in these walls of Time, 

Broken stairways, where the feet 
Stumble as they seek to climb. 

Build to-day, then, strong and sure, 

With a firm and ample base ; 30 

And ascending and secure 

Shall to-morrow find its place. 

Thus alone can we attain 

To those turrets, where the eye 

Sees the world as one vast plain, 35" 

And one boundless reach of sky. 



BIRDS OF PASSAGE 157 



BIRDS OF PASSAGE 

Black shadows fall 
From the lindens tall, 
That lift aloft their massive wall 
Against the southern sky; 

And from the realms 5 

Of the shadowy elms 
A tide-like darkness overwhelms 
The fields that round us lie. 

But the night is fair, 

And everywhere 10 

A warm, soft vapor fills the air, 
And distant sounds seem near; 

And above, in the light 
Of the star-lit night, 

Swift birds of passage wing their flight 15 

Through the dewy atmosphere. 

I hear the beat 

Of their pinions fleet, 

As from the land of snow and sleet 

They seek a southern lea. 20 

I hear the cry 
Of their voices high 
Falling dreamily through the sky, 
But their forms I cannot see. 



158 MINOR POEMS 

O, say not so ! 25 

Those sounds that flow 
In murmurs of dehght and woe 
Come not from wings of birds. 

They are the throngs 

Of the poet's songs, 3° 

Murmurs of pleasures, and pains, and wrongs, 
The sound of winged words. 

This is the cry 
Of souls, that high 

On toiling, beating pinions, fly, 35 

Seeking a warmer clime. 

From their distant flight 

Through realms of light 

It falls into our world of night, 

With the murmuring sound of rhyme. 40 



CASPAR BECERRA° 

By his evening fire the artist 
Pondered o'er his secret shame; 

Baffled, weary, and disheartened. 
Still he mused, and dreamed of fame. 

'Twas an image of the Virgin 
That had tasked his utmost skill ; 

But alas ! his fair ideal 

Vanished and escaped him still. 



IS 



PEGASUS IN POUND 159 

From a distant Eastern island 

Had the precious wood been brought; lo 

Day and night the anxious master 

At iiis toil untiring wrought; 

Till, discouraged and desponding, 

Sat he now in shadows deep, 
And the day's humiliation 

Found oblivion in sleep. 

Then a voice cried, " Rise, O master ! 

From the burning brand of oak 
Shape the thought that stirs within thee !" — 

And the startled artist woke, — 20 

Woke, and from the smoking embers 
Seized and quenched the glowing wood ; 

And therefrom he carved an image, 
And he saw that it was good. 

O thou sculptor, painter, poet ! 25 

Take this lesson to thy heart : 
That is best which lieth nearest ; 

Shape from that thy work of art. 



PEGASUS IN POUND° 

Once into a quiet village, 

Without haste and without heed, 
In the golden prime of morning. 

Strayed the poet's winged steed. 



160 MINOR POEMS 

It was Autumn, and incessant 5 

Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves, 

And, Hke Uving coals, the apples 
Burned among the withering leaves. 

Loud the clamorous bell was ringing 

From its belfry gaunt and grim; lo 

'Twas the daily call to labor, 
Not a triumph meant for him. 

Not the less he saw the landscape, 

In its gleaming vapor veiled ; 
Not the less he breathed the odors 15 

That the dying leaves exhaled. 

Thus, upon the Adllage common, 
By the school-boys he was found; 

And the wise men, in their wisdom. 

Put him straightway into pound. 20 

Then the sombre village crier. 

Ringing loud his brazen bell, 
Wandered down the street proclaiming 

There was an estray to sell. 

And the curious country people, 25 

Rich and poor, and young and old, 

Came in haste to see this wondrous 
Winged steed, with mane of gold. 

Thus the day passed, and the evening 

Fell, with vapors cold and dim; 30 

But it brought no food nor shelter. 
Brought no straw nor stall, for him. 



PEGASUS IN POUND 161 

Patiently, and still expectant, 

Looked he through the wooden bars, 

Saw the moon rise o'er the landscape, 35 

Saw the tranquil, patient stars; 

Till at length the bell at midnight 

Sounded from its dark abode. 
And, from out a neighboring farm-yard, 

Loud the cock Alectryon crowed. ° 40 

Then, with nostrils wide distended, 

Breaking from his iron chain, 
And unfolding far his pinions, 

To those stars he soared again. 

On the morrow, when the village 45 

Woke to all its toil and care, 
Lo ! the strange steed had departed, 

And they knew not when nor where. 

But they found, upon the greensward 

Where his struggling hoofs had trod, 50 

Pure and bright, a fountain flowing 
From the hoof-marks in the sod. 

From that hour, the fount unfailing 

Gladdens the whole region round. 
Strengthening all who drink its waters, 55 

While it soothes them with its sound. 



M 



162 MINOR POEMS 



THE SINGERS^ 



God sent his Singers upon earth 
With songs of sadness and of mirth, 
That they might touch the hearts of men, 
And luring them back to heaven again. 

The first, a youth, with soul of fire, 5 

Held in his hand a golden lyre ; 
Through groves he wandered, and by streams, 
Playing the music of our dreams. 

The second, with a bearded face, 
Stood singing in the market-place, 10 

And stirred with accents deep and loud 
The hearts of all the listening crowd. 

A gray old man, the third and last, 

Sang in cathedrals dim and vast, 

While the majestic organ rolled 15 

Contrition from its mouths of gold. 

And those who heard the Singers three 
Disputed which the best might be; 
For still their music seemed to start 
Discordant echoes in each heart. ao 

But the great Master said, '' I see 

No best in kind, but in degree ; 

I gave a various gift to each, 

To charm, to strengthen, and to teach. 



PROMETHEUS 163 

" These arc the three great chords of miglit, 25 
And he whose ear is tuned aright 
Win hear no discord in the three, 
But the most perfect harmony." 



PROMETHEUS° 

OR THE poet's FORETHOUGHT 

Of Prometheus, how undaunted 

On Olympus' sliining bastions° 
His audacious foot he planted, 
Myths are told and songs are chanted, 

Full of promptings and suggestions. 5 

Beautiful is the tradition 

Of that flight through heavenly portals, 
The old classic superstition 
Of the theft and the transmission 

Of the fire of the Immortals ! 10 

First the deed of noble daring, 

Born of heavenward aspiration. 
Then the fire with mortals sharing. 
Then the vulture, — the despairing 

Cry of pain on crags Caucasian. 15 

All is but a symbol painted 

Of the Poet, Prophet, Seer ; 
Only those are crowned and sainted 
Who with grief have been acquainted, 

Making nations nobler, freer. 20 



1G4 • MINOR POEMS 

In their feverish exultations, 

In their triumph and their yearning, 

In their passionate pulsations, 

In their words among the nation's, 

The Promethean fire is burning. 25 

Shall it, then, be unavailing, 

All this toil for human culture? 
Through the cloud-rack, dark and trailing, 
Must they see above them sailing 

O'er life's barren crags the vulture ? 30 

Such a fate as this was Dante's, ° 

By defeat and exile maddened; 
Thus were Milton and Cervantes, ° 
Nature's priests and Corybantes,° 

By affliction touched and saddened. 35 

But the glories so transcendent 

That around their memories cluster, 
And, on all their steps attendant. 
Make their darkened lives resplendent 

With such gleams of inward lustre ! 40 

All the melodies mysterious, 

Through the dreary darkness chanted; 

Thoughts in attitudes imperious. 

Voices soft, and deep, and serious. 
Words that whispered, songs that haunted ! 45 

All the soul in rapt suspension. 

All the quivering, palpitating 
Chords of life in utmost tension. 
With the fervor of invention, 

With the rapture of creating ! 50 



EPIMETHEUS 165 

Ah. Prometheus ! heaven-scahng ! 

In such hours of exultation 
Even the faintest heart, unquailing, 
Might behold the vulture sailing 

Round the cloudy crags Caucasian ! 55 

Though to all there is not given 

Strength for such sublime endeavor, 

Thus to scale the walls of heaven, 

And to leaven with fiery leaven, 

All the hearts of men forever ; 60 

Yet all bards, whose hearts unblighted 

Honor and believe the presage. 
Hold aloft their torches lighted, 
Gleaming through the realms benighted, 

As they onward bear the message ! 65 



EPIMETHEUS° 

OR THE poet's AFTERTHOUGHT 

Have I dreamed ? or was it real. 

What I saw as in a vision, 
When to marches hymeneal ° 
In the land of the Ideal 

Moved my thought o'er Fields Elysian ? 

What ! are these the guests whose glances 
Seemed like sunshine gleaming round me ? 

These the wild, bewildering fancies, 

That with dithyrambic dances° 
As with magic circles bound me ? 



106 MINOR POEMS 

Ah ! how cold are their caresses ! 

Pallid cheeks, and haggard bosoms ! 
Spectral gleam their snow-white dresses, 
And from loose, dishevelled tresses 

Fall the hyacinthine blossoms ! 15 

O my songs ! whose winsome measures 
Filled my heart with secret rapture I 

Children of my golden leisures ! 

Must even your delights and pleasures 

Fade and perish with the capture ? 20 

Fair they seemed, those songs sonorous, 
When they came to me unbidden; 

Voices single, and in chorus, 

Like the wild birds singing o'er us 

In the dark of branches hidden. 25 

Disenchantment ! Disillusion ! 

Must each noble aspiration 
Come at last to this conclusion, 
Jarring discord, wild confusion, 

Lassitude, renunciation? 3° 

Not with steeper fall nor faster. 
From the sun's serene dominions. 

Not through brighter realms nor vaster, 

In swift ruin and disaster, 

Icarus fell with shattered pinions° ! 35 

Sweet Pandora ! dear Pandora ° ! 

Why did mighty Jove create tliee^ 
Coy as Thetis, fair as Flora, ° 



EPIMETHEUS 167 



Beautiful as young Aurora, ° 
If to win thee is to hate thee ? 



40 



No, not hate thee ! for this feehng 

Of unrest and long resistance 
Is but passionate appealing, 
A prophetic whisper stealing 

O'er the chords of our existence. 45 

Him whom thou dost once enamour, 

Thou, beloved, never leavest; 
In life's discord, strife, and clamor, 
Still he feels thy spell of glamour; 

Him of Hope thou ne'er bereavest. 50 

Weary hearts by thee are lifted. 

Struggling souls by thee are strengthened, 
Clouds of fear asunder rifted, 
Truth from falsehood cleansed and sifted. 

Lives, like days in summer, lengthened ! 55 

Therefore art thou ever dearer, 

O my Sibyl, my deceiver° ! 
For thou makest each mystery clearer, 
And the unattained seems nearer. 

When thou fillest my heart with fever I - 60 

Muse of all the Gifts and Graces ! 

Though the fields around us wither, 
There are ampler realms and spaces. 
Where no foot has left its traces : 

Let us turn and wander thither I 65 



168 MINOR POEMS 



THE LADDER OF SAINT AUGUSTINE 

Saint Augustine ! well hast thou said,° 

That of our vices we can frame 
A ladder, if we will but tread 

Beneath our feet each deed of shame \ 

All common things, each day's events, 5 

That with the hour begin and end, 

Our pleasures and our discontents, 
Are rounds by which we may ascend. 

The low desire, the base design. 

That makes another's virtues less; 10 

The revel of the ruddy wine, 

And all occasions of excess; 

The longing for ignoble things ; 

The strife for triumph more than truth; 
The hardening of the heart, that brings 15 

Irreverence for the dreams of youth ; 

All thoughts of ill ; all evil deeds, 

That have their root in thoughts of ill; 

Whatever hinders or impedes 

The action of the nobler w^ill ; — 20 

All these must first be trampled down 
Beneath our feet, if we would gain 

In the bright fields of fair renown 
The riffht of eminent domain. 



THE LADDER OF SAINT AUGUSTINE l69 

We have not wings, we cannot soar; 25 

But we have feet to scale and chmb 

By slow degrees, by more and more, 
The cloudy summits of our time. 

The mighty pyramids of stone 

That wedge-like cleave the desert airs, 30 

When nearer seen, and better known. 

Are but gigantic flights of stairs. 

The distant mountains, that uprear 

Their solid bastions to the skies, 
Are crossed by pathways, that appear 35 

As we to higher levels rise. 

The heights by great men reached and kept 
Were not attained by sudden flight, 

But they, while their companions slept. 

Were toiling upward in the night. 40 

Standing on what too long we bore 

With shoulders bent and downcast eyes, ' 

We may discern — unseen before — 
A path to higher destinies. 

Nor deem the irrevocable Past 45 

As wholly wasted, wholly vain. 
If, rising on its wrecks, at last 

To something nobler we attain. 



170 MINOR POEMS 



THE PHANTOM SHIP 

In Mather's Magnalia Christi,° 

Of the old colonial time, 
May be found in prose the legend 

That is here set down in rhyme. 

A ship sailed from New Haven, 5 

And the keen and frosty airs, 
That filled her sails at parting, 

Were heavy with good men's prayers. 

'' O Lord ! if it be thy pleasure " — 

Thus prayed the old divine — lo 

'' To bury our friends in the ocean, 

Take them, for they are thine ! " 

But Master Lamberton muttered. 

And under his breath said he, 
^'This ship is so crank and walty,° 15 

I fear our grave she will be ! " 

And the ships that came from England, 
When the winter months were gone, 

Brought no tidings of this vessel 

Nor of Master Lamberton. 20 

This put the people to praying 

That the Lord would let them hear 

What in his greater wisdom 

He had done with friends so dear. 



THE PHANTOM SHIP 171 

And at last their prayers were answered : 25 

It was in the month of June, 
An hour before the sunset 

Of a windy afternoon, 

When, steadily steering landward, 

A ship was seen below, 30 

And they knew it was Lamberton, Master, 

Who sailed so long ago. 

On she came, with a cloud of canvas, 

Right against the wind that blew. 
Until the eye could distinguish 35 

The faces of the crew. 

Then fell her straining topmasts. 

Hanging tangled in the shrouds, 
And her sails were loosened and lifted, 

And blown away like clouds. 4© 

And the masts, with all their rigging, 

Fell slowly, one by one, 
And the hulk dilated and vanished. 

As a sea-mist in the sun ! 

And the people who saw this marvel 45 

Each said unto his friend, 
That this was the mould of their vessel, 

And thus her tragic end. 

And the pastor of the village 

Gave thanks to God in prayer, 50 

That, to quiet their troubled spirits. 

He had sent this Ship of Air. 



172 MINOR POEMS 



THE WARDEN OF THE CINQUE PORTS° 

A MIST was driving down the British Channel, 

The day was just begun, 
And through the window-panes, on floor and panel, 

Streamed the red autumn sun. 

It glanced on flowing flag and rippling pennon, 5 

And the white sails of ships ; 
And, from the frowning rampart, the black cannon 

Hailed it with feverish lips. 

Sandwich and Romney, Hastings, Hithe, and Dover° 
Were all alert that day, 10 

To see the French war-steamers speeding over. 
When the fog cleared away. 

Sullen and silent, and like couchant lions, 

Their cannon, through the night, 
Holding their breath, had watched, in grim defiance, 15 

The sea-coast opposite. 

And now they roared at drum-beat from their stations 

On every citadel; 
Each answering each, with morning salutations, 

That all was well. 20 

And down the coast, all taking up the burden, 

Replied the distant forts. 
As if to summon from his sleep the Warden 

And Lord of the Cinque Ports. ° 



THE WARDEN OF THE CINQUE PORTS 173 

Him shall no sunshine from the fields of azure, 25 

No drum-beat from the wall, 
No morning gun from the black fort's embrasure, 

Awaken with its call ! 

No more, surveying with an eye impartial 

The long line of the coast, 3° 

Shall the gaunt figure of the old Field Marshal 
Be seen upon his post ! 

For in the night, unseen, a single warrior, 

In sombre harness mailed, 
Dreaded of man, and surnamed the Destroyer, 35 

The rampant wall had scaled. 

He passed into the chamber of the sleeper, 

The dark and silent room, 
And as he entered, darker grew, and deeper, 

The silence and the gloom. 40 

He did not pause to parley or dissemble, 

But smote the Warden hoar ; 
Ah ! what a blow ! that made all England tremble 

And groan from shore to shore. 

Meanwhile, without, the surly cannon waited, 45 

The sun rose bright overhead ; 
Nothing in Nature's aspect intimated 

That a great man was dead. 



174 MINOR POEMS 



HAUNTED HOUSES 

All houses wherein men have Uved and died 
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors 

The harmless phantoms on their errands ghde, 
With feet that make no sound upon the floors. 

We meet them at the doorway, on the stair, 5 

Along the passages they come and go, 
Impalpable impressions on the air, 

A sense of something moving to and fro. 

There are more guests at table than the hosts 

Invited; the illuminated hall 10 

Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts, 
As silent as the pictures on the wall. 

The stranger at my fireside cannot see 

The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear; 

He but perceives what is; while unto me 15 

All that has been is visible and clear. 

We have no title-deeds to house or lands; 

Owners and occupants of earlier dates 
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands. 

And hold in mortmain still their old estates. ° 20 

The spirit-world around this world of sense 
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere 

Wafts through these earthty mists and vapors dense 
A vital breath of more ethereal air. 



IN THE CHURCHYARD AT CAMBRIDGE 175 

Our little lives are kept in equipoise 25 

By opposite attractions and desires; 
The struggle of the instinct that enjoys, 

And the more noble instinct that aspires. 

These perturbations, this perpetual jar 

Of earthly wants and aspirations high, 30 

Come from the influence of an unseen star,° 

An undiscovered planet in our sky. 

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud 
Throws o'er the sea a floating bridge of light. 

Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd 35 
Into the realm of mystery and night, — 

So from the world of spirits there descends 
A bridge of light, connecting it with this. 

O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends. 
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss. 40 



IN THE CHURCHYARD AT CAMBRIDGE 

In the village churchyard she lies, 
Dust is in her beautiful eyes. 

No more she breathes, nor feels, nor stirs; 
At her feet and at her head 
Lies a slave to attend the dead. 

But their dust is white as hers. 

Was she a lady of high degree. 
So much in love with the vanity 

And foolish pomp of this world of ours ? 



170 MINOR POEMS 

Or was it Christian charity, lo 

And lowhness and humihty, 

The richest and rarest of all dowers ? 

Who shall tell us ? No one speaks ; 
No color shoots into those cheeks, 

Either of anger or of pride, 15 

At the rude question w^e have asked ; 
Nor will the mystery be unmasked 

By those who are sleeping at her side. 

Hereafter ? — And do you think to look 

On the terrible pages of that Book 20 

To find her failings, faults, and errors ? 
Ah, you will then have other cares. 
In your own shortcomings and despairs. 

In your own secret sins and terrors ! 



THE EMPEROR'S BIRD'S-NEST 

Once the Emperor Charles of Spain, ° 
With his swarthy, grave commanders, 

I forget in what campaign, 

Long besieged, in mud and rain, 
Some old frontier town of Flanders. 

Up and down the dreary camp, 
In great boots of Spanish leather, 

Striding with a measured tramp. 

These Hidalgos, dull and damp, 

Cursed the Frenchmen, cursed the weather. 



THE EMPEROR^ S BIRD' S-N EST 111 

Thus as to and fro they went 

Over upland and through hollow, 
Giving their impatience vent, 
Perched upon the Emperor's tent, 

In her nest, they spied a swallow. 15 

Yes, it was a swallow's nest, 

Built of clay and hair of horses, 
Mane, or tail, or dragoon's crest, ° 
Found on hedge-rows east and west, 

After skirmish of the forces. 20 

Then an old Hidalgo said,° 

As he twirled his gray mustachio, 

"Sure this swallow overhead 

Thinks the Emperor's tent a shed, 

And the Emperor but a Macho° ! ^' 25 

Hearing his imperial name 

Coupled with those words of malice. 
Half in anger, half in shame, 
Forth the great campaigner came 

Slowly from his canvas palace. 30 

''Let no hand the bird molest," 
Said he solemnly, " nor hurt her ! " 

Adding then, by way of jest, 

"Golondrina is my guest,° 

'Tis the wife of some deserter ! " 35 

Swift as bowstring speeds a shaft, 

Through the camp was spread the rumor, 

And the soldiers, as they quaffed 

Flemish beer at dinner, laughed 

At the Emperor's pleasant humor. 40 



178 MINOR POEMS 

So unharmed and unafraid 

Sat the swallow still and brooded, 
Till the constant cannonade 
Through the walls a breach had made, 

And the siege was thus concluded. 45 

Then the army, elsewhere bent, 
Struck its tents as if disbanding. 

Only not the Emperor's tent. 

For he ordered, ere he went. 

Very curtly, ^' Leave it standing!" 50 

So it stood there all alone. 

Loosely flapping, torn and tattered, 

Till the brood was fledged and flown, 

Singing o'er those walls of stone 

Which the cannon-shot had shattered. 55 



THE TWO ANGELS° 

Two angels, one of Life and one of Death, 
Passed o'er our village as the morning broke; 

The dawn was on their faces, and beneath, 

The sombre houses hearsed with plumes of smoke. 

Their attitude and aspect were the same, 5 

Alike their features and their robes of white ; 

But one was crowned with amaranth, as with flame, ° 
And one with asphodels, like flakes of light. ° 

I saw them pause on their celestial way ; 

Then said I, with deep fear and doubt oppressed, 10 



THE TWO ANGELS 179 

''Beat not so loud, my heart, lest thou betray 
The place where thy beloved are at rest ! " 

And he who wore the crown of asphodels, 
Descending, at my door began to knock, 

And my soul sank within me, as in wells 15 

The waters sink before an earthquake's shock. 

I recognized the nameless agony, 
The terror and the tremor and the pain, 

That oft before had filled or haunted me, 

And now returned with three-fold strength again. 20 

The door I opened to my heavenly guest. 

And listened, for I thought I heard God's voice; 

And, knowing whatsoe'er he sent was best, 
Dared neither to lament nor to rejoice. 

Then with a smile, that filled the house with light, 25 
"My errand is not Death, but Life," he said; 

And ere I answ^ered, passing out of sight, 
On his celestial embassy he sped. 

'Twas at thy door, O friend ! and not at mine, 
The angel with the amaranthine wreath, 30 

Pausing, descended, and with voice divine 

Whispered a word that had a sound like Death. 

Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom, 
A shadow on those features fair and thin; 

And softly, from that hushed and darkened room, 35 
Two angels issued, where but one went in. 



180 MINOR POEMS 

All is of God ! If he but wave his hand, 

The mists collect, the rain falls thick and loud, 

Till, with a smile of light on ,sea and land, 

Lo ! he looks back from the departing cloud. 40 

Angels of Life and Death alike are his; 

Without his leave they pass no threshold o'er; 
Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this. 

Against his messengers to shut the door? 



DAYLIGHT AND MOONLIGHT 

In broad daylight, and at noon, 
Yesterday I saw the moon 
Sailing high, but faint and white, 
As a school-boy's paper kite. 

In broad daylight, j^esterday, 5 

I read a Poet's mystic lay; 
And it seemed to me at most 
As a phantom, or a ghost. 

But at length the feverish day 

Like a passion died away, 10 

And the night, serene and still, 

Fell on village, vale, and hill. 

Then the moon, in all her pride, 

Like a spirit glorified, 

Filled and overflowed the night 15 

With revelations of her light. 



THE JEWISH CEMETERY AT NEWPORT 181 

And the Poet's song again 

Passed like music through my brain; 

Night interpreted to me 

All its grace and mystery. 20 



THE JEWISH CEMETERY AT NEWPORT 

How strange it seems ! These Hebrews in their graves, 
Close by the street of this fair seaport town, 

Silent beside the never-silent waves, 

At rest in all this moving up and down ! 

The trees are white with dust, that o^er their sleep 5 
Wave their broad curtains in the south-wind's breath, 

While underneath such leafy tents they keep 
The long, mysterious Exodus of Death. 

And these sepulchral stones, so old and brown. 

That pave with level flags their burial-place, 10 

Seem like the tablets of the Law, thrown down° 
And broken by Moses at the mountain's base. 

The very names recorded here are strange. 
Of foreign accent, and of different climes; 

Alvares and Rivera interchange 15 

With Abraham and Jacob of old times. 

'' Blessed be God, for he created Death ! " 

The mourners said, "and Death is rest and peace;" 
Then added, in the certainty of faith, 

^' And giveth Life that nevermore shall cease." 20 



182 MINOR POEMS 

Closed are the portals of their Synagogue, ° 
No Psalms of David now the silence break, 

No Rabbi reads the ancient Decalogue ° 
In the grand dialect the Prophets spake. 

Gone are the living, but the dead remain, 25 

And not neglected ; for a hand unseen, 
Scattering its bounty, like a summer rain. 

Still keeps their graves and their remembrance green.- 

How came they here ? What burst of Christian hate. 
What persecution, merciless and blind, 30 

Drove o'er the sea — that desert desolate — 
These Ishmaels and Hagars of mankind °? 

They lived in narrow streets and lanes obscure, 
Ghetto and Judenstrass, in mirk and mire°; 

Taught in the school of patience to endure 35 

The life of anguish and the death of fire. 

All their lives long, with the unleavened bread 

And bitter herbs of exile and its fears. 
The wasting famine of the heart they fed, 

And slaked its thirst with marah cf their tears. ° 40 

Anathema maranatha ! was the cry° 

That rang from town to town, from street to street: 
At every gate the accursed Mordecai° 

Was mocked and jeered, and spurned by Christian feet. 

Pride and humiliation hand in hand 45 

Walked with them through the world where'er they 
went ; 

Trampled and beaten were they as the sand, 
And yet unshaken as the continent. 



OLIVER BASSELIN 183 

For in the background figures vague and vast 
Of patriarchs and of prophets rose sublime, 50 

And all the great traditions of the Past 
They saw reflected in the coming time. 

And thus forever with reverted look 

The mystic volume of the world they read, 

Spelling it backward, like a Hebrew book,° 55 

Till life became a Legend of the Dead. 

But ah ! what once has been shall be no more ! 

The groaning earth in travail and in pain 
Brings forth its races, but does not restore, 

And the dead nations never rise again. 60 



OLIVER BASSELIN° 

In the Valley of the Vire 

Still is seen an ancient mill. 
With its gables quaint and queer, 
And beneath the window-sill, 
On the stone. 
These words alone : 
" Ohver Basselin lived here." 

Far above it, on the steep. 

Ruined stands the old Chateau; 
Nothing but the donjon-keep 
Left for shelter or for show. 
Its vacant eyes 
Stare at the skies, 
Stare at the valley green and deep. 



zo 



184 MINOR POEMS 

Once a convent, old and brown, 15 

Looked, but ah ! it looks no more, 
From the neighboring hillside down 
On the rushing and the roar 
Of the stream 

Whose sunny gleam 20 

Cheers the little Norman town. 

In that darksome mill of stone, 
To the water's dash and din, 
Careless, humble, and unknown, 

Sang the poet Basselin 25 

Songs that fill 
That ancient mill 
With a splendor of its own. 

Never feeling of unrest 

Broke the pleasant dream he dreamed ; 30 
Only made to be his nest, 
All the lovely valley seemed ; 
N,o desire 
Of soaring higher 
Stirred or fluttered in his breast. 35 

True, his songs were not divine; 

Were not songs of that high art. 
Which, as winds do in the pine, 
Find an answer in each heart; 

But the mirth 40 

Of this green earth 
Laughed and revelled in his line. 

From the alehouse and the inn. 
Opening on the narrow street. 



OLIVER BASSE LIN 185 

Came the loud, convivial din, 45 

Singing and applause of feet, 

The laughing la3^s 

That in those days 
Sang the poet Basselin. 

In the castle, cased in steel, 50 

Knights, who fought at Agincourt,° 
Watched and waited, spur on heel; 
But the poet sang for sport 
Songs that rang 

Another clang, 55 

Songs that lowlier hearts could feel. 

In the convent, clad in gray, 

Sat the monks in lonely cells, 
Paced the cloisters, knelt to pray, 

And the poet heard their bells ; 60 

But his rhymes 
Found other chimes. 
Nearer to the earth than they. 

Gone are all the barons bold. 

Gone are all the knights and squires, 65 

Gone the abbot stern and cold. 
And the brotherhood of friars; 
Not a name 
Remains to fame, 
From those mouldering days of old ! 70 

But the poet's memory here 

Of the landscape makes a part; 
Like the river, swift and clear, 



186 MINOR POEMS 

Flows his song through many a heart; 

Haunting still 75 

That ancient mill 
In the Vallev of the Vire. 



VICTOR GALBRAITH° 

Under the walls of Monterey 

At daybreak the bugles began to play, 

Victor Galbraith ! 
In the mist of the morning damp and gray, 
These were the words they seemed to say : 5 

''Come forth to thy death, 

Victor Galbraith ! " 

Forth he came, with a martial tread; 
Firm was his step, erect his head; 

Victor Galbraith, 10 

He who so well the bugle played. 
Could not mistake the words it said : 

''Come forth to thy death, 

Victor Galbraith ! '^ 

He looked at the earth, he looked at the sky, 15 
He looked at the files of musketrj^, 

Victor Galbraith ! 
And he said, with a steady voice and eye, 
" Take good aim ; I am ready to die ! " 

Thus challenges death 20 

Victor Galbraith. 



VICTOR GALBRAITH 187 

Twelve fiery tongues flashed straight and red, 
Six leaden balls on their errand sped ; 

Victor Galbraith 
Falls to the ground, but he is not dead : 25 

His name was not stamped on those balls of lead,° 

And they only scath 

Victor Galbraith. 

Three balls are in his breast and brain, 

But he rises out of the dust again, 30 

Victor Galbraith ! 
The water he drinks has a bloody stain ; 
'' Oh kill me, and put me out of my pain ! " 

In his agony prayeth 

Victor Galbraith. 2,^ 

Forth dart once more those tongues of flame, 
And the bugler has died a death of shame, 

Victor Galbraith ! 
His soul has gone back to whence it came, 
And no one answers to the name, 40 

When the Sergeant saith, 

''Victor Galbraith !'' 

Under the walls of Monterey 

By night a bugle is heard to play, 

Victor Galbraith ! 45 

Through the mist of the valley damp and gray 
The sentinels hear the sound, and say, 

'' That is the wraith 

Of Victor Galbraith ! '' 



188 MINOR POEMS 



MY LOST YOUTH 



Often I think of the beautiful town° 

That is seated by the sea; 
Often in thought go up and down 
The pleasant streets of that dear old town, 

And my youth comes back to me. 5 

And a verse of a Lapland song 
Is haunting my memory still : 
'' A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 

I can see the shadowy lines of its trees, lo 

And catch, in sudden gleams. 
The sheen of the far-surrounding seas, 
And islands that were the Hesperides° 
Of all my boyish dreams. 

And the burden of that old song, 15 

It murmurs and whispers still : 
'^ A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 

I remember the black wharves and the slips, 

And the sea-tides tossing free ; 20 

And Spanish sailors with bearded lips. 
And the beauty and mystery of the ships, 
And the magic of the sea. 

And the voice of that wayward song 
Is singing and saying still : 25 

'' A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 



31 Y LOST YOUTH 189 

I remember the bulwarks by the shore, 

And the fort upon the hill ; 
The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar, 30 

The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er, 
And the bugle wild and shrill. 
And the music of that old song 
Throbs in my memory still : 

" A boy's will is the wind's will, 35 

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 

I remember the sea-fight far away,° 

How it thundered o'er the tide ! 
And the dead captains, as they lay 
In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay 4° 

Where they in battle died. 

And the sound of that mournful song 
Goes through me with a thrill : 
^' A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 45 

I can see the breezy dome of groves, 
The shadows of Deering's Woods°; 
And the friendships old and the early loves 
Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves 

In quiet neighborhoods. 5° 

And the verse of that sweet old song. 
It flutters and murmurs still : 
" A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 

I remember the gleams and glooms that dart. 55 

Across the school-boy's brain; 
The song and the silence in the heart, 



190 MINOR POEMS 

That in part are prophecies, and in part 
Are longings wild and vain. 

And the voice of that fitful song 60 

Sings on, and is never still : 

" A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 

There are things of which I may not speak ; 

There are dreams that cannot die; 65 

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, 
And bring a pallor into the cheek, 
And a mist before the eye. 

And the words of that fatal song 
Come over me like a chill : 70 

*' A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 

Strange to me now are the forms I meet 

When I visit the dear old town; 
But the native air is pure and sweet, 75 

And the trees that o'ershadow each well-known street. 
As they balance up and down, 
Are singing the beautiful song. 
Are sighing and whispering still : 
'' A boy's will is the wind's will, 80 

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 

And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair 

And with joy that is almost pain 
My heart goes back to wander there. 
And among the dreams of the days that were, 85 

I find my lost youth again. 

And the strange and beautiful song, 



THE ROPE WALK 191 

The groves are repeating it still : 
" A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 90 



THE ROPEWALK^ 

In that building, long and low, 
With its windows all a-row. 

Like the port-holes of a hulk. 
Human spiders spin and spin, 
Backward down their threads so thin $ 

Dropping, each a hempen bulk. 

At the end, an open door; 
Squares of sunshine on the floor 

Light the long and dusky lane; 
And the whirring of a wheel, 10 

Dull and drowsy, makes me feel 

All its spokes are in my brain. 

As the spinners to the end 
Downward go and reascend. 

Gleam the long threads in the sun; 15 

While within this brain of mine 
Cobwebs brighter and more fine 

By the busy wheel are spun. 

Two fair maidens in a swing, 

Like white doves upon the wing, 20 

First before my vision pass ; 
Laughing, as their gentle hands 
Closely clasp the twisted strands, 

At their shadow on the grass. 



192 311 NOR POEMS 

Then a booth of mountebanks, ° 25 

With its smell of tan and planks. 

And a girl poised high in air 
On a cord, in spangled dress, 
With a faded loveliness. 

And a weary look of care. 30 

Then a homestead among farms, 
And a woman with bare arms 

Drawing water from a well ; 
As the bucket mounts apace. 
With it mounts her own fair face, 35 

As at some magician's spell. 

Then an old man in a tower, 
Ringing loud the noontide hour, 
. While the rope coils round and round 
Like a serpent at his feet, 40 

And again, in swift retreat. 
Nearly lifts him from the ground. 

Then within a prison-yard. 
Faces fixed, and stern, and hard, 

Laughter and indecent mirth; 45 

Ah ! it is the gallows-tree ! 
Breath of Christian charity. 

Blow, and sweep it from the earth ! 

Then a school-boy, with his kite 

Gleaming in a sky of light, 50 

And an eager, upward look ; 
Steeds pursued through lane and field j 
Fowlers with their snares concealed ; 

And an angler by a brook. 



THE GOLDEN MILE-STONE 193 

Ships rejoicing in the breeze, 55 

Wrecks that float o'er unknown seas, 

Anchors dragged through faithless sand; 
Sea-fog drifting overhead, 
And, with lessening line and lead, 

Sailors feeling for the land. 60 

All these scenes do I behold, 
These, and many left untold, 

In that building long and low; 
While the wheel goes round and round, 
With a drowsy, dreamy sound, 65 

And the spinners backward go. 



THE GOLDEN MILE-STONE 

Leafless are the trees; their purple branches 
Spread themselves abroad, like reefs of coral, 

Rising silent 
In the Red Sea of the winter sunset. 

From the hundred chimneys of the village, 
Like the Afreet in the Arabian story, ° 

Smoky columns 
Tower aloft into the air of amber. 

At the window winks the flickering firelight; 
Here and there the lamps of evening glimmer, 

Social watch-fires 
Answering one another through the darkness. 



194 MINOR POEMS 

On the hearth the Hghted logs are glowing, 
And like Ariel in the cloven pine-tree ° 

For its freedom 15 

Groans and sighs the air imprisoned in them. 

By the fireside there are old men seated, 
Seeing ruined cities in the ashes, 

Asking sadly 
Of the Past what it can ne'er restore them. 20 

By the fireside there are youthful dreamers, 
Building castles fair, with stately stairways, 

Asking blindly 
Of the Future what it cannot give them. 

By the fireside tragedies are acted 25 

In whose scenes appear two actors only, 

Wife and husband. 
And above them God the sole spectator. 

By the fireside there are peace and comfort. 
Wives and children, with fair, thoughtful faces, 30 

Waiting, watching 
For a well-known footstep in the passage. 

Each man's chimney is his Golden Mile-Stone; 
Is the central point, from which he measures 

Every distance 35 

Through the gateways of the world around him. 

In his farthest wanderings still he sees it ; 

Hears the talking flame, the answering night-wind, 

As he heard them 
When he sat with those who were, but are not. 40 



CATAWBA WINE 



195 



Happy he whom neither wealth nor fashion, 
Nor the march of the encroaching city, 

Drives an exile 
From the hearth of his ancestral homestead. 

We may build more splendid habitations, 

Fill our rooms with paintings and with sculptures, 

But we cannot 
Buy with gold the old associations ! 



CATAWBA WINE 

This song of mine 

Is a Song of the Vine, 
To.be sung by the glowing embers 

Of wayside inns, 

When the rain begins 5 

To darken the drear Novembers, 

It is not a song 

Of the Scuppernong,° 
From warm Carolinian valleys, 

Nor the IsabeP » 

And the Muscadel° 
That bask in our garden alleys. 

Nor the red Mustang, ° 

Whose clusters hang 
O'er the waves of the Colorado, 15 

And the fiery flood 

Of whose purple blood 
Has a dash of Spanish bravado. 



196 MINOR POEMS 

For richest and best 

Is the wine of the West, 20 

That grows by the Beautiful River; 

Whose sweet perfume 

Fills all the room 
With a benison on the giver. 

And as hollow trees 25 

Are the haunts of bees, 
Forever going and coming ; 

So this crystal hive 

Is all alive 
With a swarming and buzzing and humming. 30 

Very good in its way 

Is the Verzenay,° 
Or the Sillery soft and creamy °; 

But Catawba wine° 

Has a taste more divine, 35 

More dulcet, delicious, and dreamy. 

There grows no vine 

By the haunted Rhine, 
By Danube or Guadalquivir, 

Nor on island or cape, 40 

That bears such a grape 
As grows by the Beautiful River. 

Drugged is their juice 

For foreign use. 
When shipped o'er the reeling Atlantic, 45 

To rack our brains 

With the fever pains, 
That have driven the Old World frantic. 



SANTA FILOMENA 197 

To the sewers and sinks 

With all such drinks, 50 

And after them tumble the mixer; 

For a poison malign 

Is such Borgia wine, 
Or at best but a Devil's Elixir, ° 

While pure as a spring 55 

Is the wine I sing. 
And to praise it, one needs but name it; 

For Catawba wine 

Has need of no sign. 
No tavern-bush to proclaim it.° 60 

And this Song of the Vine, 

This greeting of mine, 
The winds and the birds shall deliver 

To the Queen of the West, 

In her garlands dressed, 65 

On the banks of the Beautiful River. 



SANTA FILOMENA° 

Whene'er a noble deed is wrought. 
Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, 

Our hearts, in glad surprise. 

To higher levels rise. 

The tidal wave of deep,er souls 
Into our inmost being rolls. 
And lifts us unawares 
Out of all meaner cares. 



198 MINOR POEMS 

Honor to those whose words or deeds 

Thus help us in our daily needs, lo 

And by their overflow 

Raise us from what is low ! 

Thus thought I; as by night I read 

Of the great army of the dead, 

The trenches cold and damp, 15 

The starved and frozen camp, — 

The wounded from the battle-plain, 
In dreary hospitals of pain, 

The cheerless corridors, 

The cold and stony floors. 20 

Lo ! in that house of misery 
A lady with a lamp I see 

Pass through the glimmering gloom. 

And flit from room to room. 

And slow, as in a dream of bliss, 25 

The speechless sufferer turns to kiss 

Her shadow, as it falls 

Upon the darkening walls. 

As if a door in heaven should be 

Opened and then closed suddenly, 30 

The vision came and went. 
The light shone and was spent. 

On England's annals, through the long 
Hereafter of her speech and song. 

That lights its rays shall cast 35 

From portals of the past. 



THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE 199 

A Lady with a Lamp shall stand 
In the great history of the land, 

A noble type of good, 

Heroic womanhood. 4° 

Nor even shall be wanting here 
The palm, the lily, and the spear,° 

The symbols that of yore 

Saint Filomena bore. 



THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE 

A LEAF FROM KING ALFRED'S OROSIUS 

Othere, the old sea-captain, 

Who dwelt in Helgoland, ° 
To King Alfred, the Lover of Truth, ° 
Brought a snow-white walrus-tooth, 

Which he held in his brown right hand. s 

His figure was tall and stately. 

Like a boy's his eye appeared; 
His hair was yellow as hay, 
But threads of a silvery gray 

Gleamed in his tawny beard. lo 

Hearty and hale was Othere, 

His cheek had the color of oak; 
With a kind of a laugh in his speech, 
Like the sea-tide on a beach, 

As unto the King he spoke. 15 



200 MINOR POEMS 

And Alfred, King of the Saxons, 

Had a book upon his knees. 
And wrote down the wondrous tale 
Of him who was first to sail 

Into the Arctic seas. 20 

''So far I Hve to the northward, 

No man lives north of me ; 
To the east are wild mountain-chains. 
And beyond them meres and plains; 

To the westward all is sea. 25 

'' So far I live to the northward, 
From the harbor of Skeringeshale, 

If you only sailed by day, 

With a fair wind all the way, 

More than a month would you sail. 30 

'' I own six hundred reindeer. 

With sheep and swine beside ; 
I have tribute from the Finns, 
Whalebone and reindeer-skins, 

And ropes of walrus-hide. 35 

" I ploughed the land with horses, 

But my heart was ill at ease, 
For the old seafaring men 
Came to me now and then. 

With their sagas of the seas ; — 4° 

''Of Iceland and of Greenland, 

And the stormy Hebrides, 
And the undiscovered deep ; — 
Oh I could not eat nor sleep 

For thinking of those seas. 45 




THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE 201 

''To the northward stretched the desert, 

How far I fain would know ; 
So at last I sallied forth, 
And three days sailed due north, 

As far as the whale-ships go. 50 

'' To the west of me was the ocean, 

To the right the desolate shore, 
But I did not slacken sail 
For the walrus or the whale, 

Till after three days more. 55 

'' The days grew longer and longer. 

Till they became as one, 
And southward through the haze° 
I saw the sullen blaze 

Of the red midnight sun. 60 

*' And then uprose before me. 

Upon the water's edge, 
The huge and haggard shape 
Of that unknown North Cape, 

Whose form is like a wedge. 65 

" The sea was rough and stormy. 

The tempest howled and wailed. 
And the sea-fog, like a ghost. 
Haunted that dreary coast. 

But onward still I sailed. - 70 

'' Four days I steered to eastward, 

Four days without a night : 
Round in a fiery ring 
Went the great sun, O King, 

With red and lurid light." 75 



202 MINOR POEMS 

Here Alfred, King of the Saxons, 

Ceased writing for a while ; 
And raised his eyes from his book, 
With a strange and puzzled look, 
And an incredulous smile. 

But Othere, the old sea-captain, 
He neither paused nor stirred. 
Till the King listened, and then 
Once more took up his pen, 
And wrote down every word. 

*^ And now the land," said Othere, 
'^ Bent southward suddenly. 

And I followed the curving shore 

And ever southward bore 
Into a nameless sea. 

*' And there we hunted the walrus. 
The narwhale, and the seal ; 

Ha ! 'twas a noble game ! 

And like the lightning's flame 
Flew our harpoons of steel. 

'^ There were six of us all together 

Norsemen of Helgoland ; 
In two days and no more 
We killed of them threescore, 

And dragged them to the strand !" 

Here Alfred the Truth-teller 
Suddenly closed his book, 
And lifted his blue eyes, 
With doubt and strange surmise 
Depicted in their look. 



DAYBREAK 203 

And Othere the old sea-captain 

Stared at him wild and weird, 
Then smiled, till his shining teeth 
Gleamed white from underneath 

His tawny, quivering beard. no 

And to the King of the Saxons, 

In witness of the truth, 
Raising his noble head, 
He stretched his brown hand, and said : 

" Behold this walrus-tooth ! '' ns 



DAYBREAK 

A WIND came up out of the sea, 

And said, " O mists, make room for me. 

It hailed the ships, and cried, " Sail on, 
Ye mariners, the night is gone." 

And hurried landward far away, 
Crying, " Awake ! it is the day." 

It said unto the forest, *^ Shout ! 
Hang all your leafy banners out ! " 

It touched the wood-bird's folded wing, 
And said, '^ O bird, awake and sing.'' 

And o'er the farms, " O chanticleer. 
Your clarion blow; the day is near." 



204 MINOR POEMS 

It whispered to the fields of corn, 

" Bow down, and hail the coming morn." 

It shouted through the belfry-tower, 15 

. " Awake, O bell ! proclaim the hour." 

It crossed the churchyard with a sigh, 
And said, '' Not yet ! in quiet lie." 



THE FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY OF AGASSIZ° 
May 28, 1857 

It was fifty years ago 

In the pleasant month of May, 
In the beautiful Pays de Vaud, 

A child in its cradle lay. 

And Nature, the old nurse, took 5 

The child upon her knee. 
Saying : '^ Here is a story-l30ok 

Thy Father has written for thee." 

" Come, wander with me," she said, 

" Into regions yet untrod ; 10 

And read what is still unread 
In the manuscripts of God." 

And he wandered away and away 
With Nature, the dear old nurse, 

Who sang to him night and day 15 

The rhymes of the universe. 



CHILDREN 1:05 

And whenever the way seemed long, 

Or his heart began to fail, 
She would sing a more wonderful song, 

Or tell a more marvellous tale. 20 

So she keeps him still a child, 

And will not let him go, 
Though at times his heart beats wild 

For the beautiful Pays de Vaud ; 

Though at times he hears in his dreams 25 

The Ranz des Vaches of old,° 
And the rush of mountain streams 

From glaciers clear and cold ; 

And the mother at home says, " Hark : 

For his voice I listen and yearn; 30 

It is growing late and dark. 
And my boy does not return ! " 



CHILDREN 



Come to me, O ye children ! 

For I hear you at your play, 
And the questions that perplexed me 

Have vanished quite away. 

Ye open the eastern windows. 
That look towards the sun, 

Where thoughts are singing swallows 
And the brooks of morning run. 



206 , MINOR POEMS 

In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine, 
In your thoughts the brooklet's flow, 

But in mine is the wind of Autumn 
And the first fall of the snow. 

Ah ! what would the world be to us 

If the children were no more ? 
We should dread the desert behind us 

Worse than the dark before. 

What the leaves are to the forest, 

With light and air for food, 
Ere their sweet and tender juices 

Have been hardened into wood, — 

That to the world are children ; 

Through them it feels the glow 
Of a brighter and sunnier climate 

Than reaches the trunks below. 

Come to me, O ye children ! 25 

And whisper in my ear 
What the birds and the winds are singing 

In your sunny atmosphere. 

For what are all our contrivings. 

And the wisdom of our books, 30 

When compared with your caresses, 

And the gladness of your looks ? 



Ye are better than all the ballads 
That ever were sung or said; 

For ye are living poems. 
And all the rest are dead. 



J 



SANDALPHON 207 



SANDALPHON° 

Have you read in the Talmud of old,° 
In the Legends the Rabbins have told 

Of the limitless realms of the air, 
Have you read it, — the marvellous story 
Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory, 5 

Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer ? 

How, erect, at the outermost gates 
Of the City Celestial he waits. 

With his feet on the ladder of light, 
That, crowded with angels unnumbered, lo 

By Jacob was seen, as he slumbered^ 

Alone in the desert at night ? 

The Angels of Wind and of Fire 
Chant only one hymn, and expire 

With the song's irresistible stress; 15 

Expire in their rapture and wonder. 
As harp-strings are broken asunder 

By music they throb to express. 

But serene in the rapturous throng. 

Unmoved by the rush of the song, 20 

With eyes unimpassioned and slow, 
Among the dead angels, the deathless 
Sandalphon stands listening breathless 

To sounds that ascend from below ; — 

From the spirits on earth that adore, 25 

From the souls that entreat and implore 
In the fervor and passion of prayer; 



208 MINOR POEMS 

From the hearts that are broken with losses, 
And weary with dragging the crosses 

Too heavy for mortals to bear. 30 

And he gathers the prayers as he stands, 
And they change into flowers in his hands. 

Into garlands of purple and red ; 
And beneath the great arch of the portal, 
Through the streets of the City Immortal 35 

Is wafted the fragrance they shed. 

It is but a legend, I know, — 
A fable, a phantom, a show, 

Of the ancient Rabbinical lore; 
Yet the old mediaeval tradition, 40 

The beautiful, strange superstition, 

But haunts me and holds me the more. 

When I look from my window at night, 
And the welkin above is all white. 

All throbbing and panting with stars, 45 

Among them majestic is standing 
Sandalphon the angel, expanding 

His pinions in nebulous bars. 

And the legend, I feel, is a part 

Of the hunger and thirst of the heart, 50 

The frenzy and fire of the brain. 
That grasps at the fruitage forbidden, 
The golden pomegranates of Eden, 

To quiet its fever and pain. 



NOTES 

THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH (Page 1) 

The facts of the settlement of the Colony of New Plymouth are 
well known. In 1620 the congregation which had left England 
for Holland started across the Atlantic for the New World. After 
encountering great hardships, the little band reached Cape Cod in 
November. After a careful investigation of their surroundings, 
the Pilgrims resolved to settle. On December 16, old style, or 
December 26, according to our mode of reckoning time, the May- 
flower anchored in Plymouth Harbor. 

Every young student of American history and literature should 
read the simple and graphic account of the founding of the new 
nation, as it is recorded in Chronicles of The Pilgrim Fathers of 
the Colony of Plymouth^ written by Bradford and Winslow, and 
edited by Dr. Alexander Young. 

Miles Standish appears in the chronicles for the first time, 
November 13, 1620. He was not a member of the Robinson con- 
gregation that left England for Holland, but joined it in the Low 
Countries, where he was serving with the English troops sent over 
to aid the Dutch against the Spanish. He was a gentleman, born 
in Lancashire, heir apparent to a large estate. A descendant of 
warlike stock, he kept the honor of his ancestors at least in that 
particular. His warlike nature spread terror through the Indian 
tribes. In 1625 he was sent to England as agent of the colony, 
returned in 1626, removed to Duxbury in 1630, and died in 1656. 
p 209 



210 NOTES 

It is interesting to trace in the entries in Longfellow's diary the 
progress of the writing of The Courtship of Miles Standish. 

December 2, 1857. "Soft as spring. I begin a new poem, 
Priscilla ; to be a kind of Puritan pastoral ; the subject, the 
courtship of Miles Standish. This, I think, will be a better treat- 
ment of the subject than the dramatic one I wrote some time ago." 

December 3cl, 1857. "My poem is in hexameters, an idyl of 
the Old Colony times." 

December 29th, 1857. " Wrote a little at PrisciUa.'' 

January 29th, 1858. "Began again on PrisciUa, and wrote 
several pages, finishing the second canto." 

February 17, 1858. " Have worked pretty steadily for the last 
week on Priscilla. To-day finish canto four." 

3Iarch 1, 1858. "Keep indoors, and work on Priscilla, which 
I think I shall call The Courtship of Miles Standish.'''' 

March 16, 1858. "But I find time, notwithstanding, to write a 
whole canto of Miles Standish, namely, canto eight." 

March 2 2d. "The poem is finished, and now only needs re- 
vision, which I begin to-day. But in the main, I have it as I 
want it." 

April 23d. " Printing 3fi7es Standish, and seeing all its defects 
as it stands before me in type." 

The book did not appear till October. On the 16th of that 
month the following entry was made: " The Courtship of Miles 
Standish published. At noon Ticknor told me he had sold five 
thousand in Boston, besides the orders from a distance. He had 
printed ten thousand, and has another ten thousand in press." On 
the 23d he wrote, "Between these two Saturdays Miles Standish 
has marched steadily on. Another five thousand are in press ; in 
all an army of twenty-five thousand, — in one week. Fields tells 
me that in London ten thousand were sold the first day." 

2. The chronicles give us a vivid account of the first building : 
" Tuesday, the 9th of January, was a reasonable fair day ; and we 



MILES STANDISH 211 

went to labor that day in the building of our town, in two rows of 
houses for more safety. We divided by lot the plot of ground 
whereon to build our town, after the proportion formerly allotted. 
We agreed that every man should build his own house, thinking 
by that course men should make more haste than working in 
common. The common house, in which for the first we made our 
rendezvous, being near finished, wanted only covering, it being 
about twenty foot square. Some should make mortar, and some 
gather thatch ; so that in four days half of it was thatched." 

3. Doublet, a close-titting garment for men, covering the body 
from the neck to the waist. 

Cordova in Spain became famous for the preparation of goat- 
skin which took the name Cordovan. Hence the word " cordwain " 
and " cordwainer," the term applied to shoemaker. 

8. Corselet, a light breastplate of armor. 

Sword of Damascus, a sword made at Damascus. Damascus 
steel was famous everywhere for its hardness and its beauty, orna- 
mented with tine wavy lines. The secret of the workmanship has 
never been revealed to the Western world. 

10. Fowling-piece, a light gun adapted for killing birds. 

Matchlock, a musket fired by means of a match. Most of the 
muskets of the Pilgrims were of this kind. 

15. The chronicles say that John Alden, who was a member of 
the Mayflower company, " was hired for a cooper at Southampton, 
where the ship victualled ; and being a hopeful young man, was 
much desired, but left to his own liking to go or stay when he 
came here [Plymouth], but he stayed and married here." 

19. Saint Gregory I, named "The Great," was Pope, 590-604. 
The story runs that, when he was monk, he saw some Anglo-Saxon 
youths exposed for sale in the slave-markets of Rome, and upon 
learning their nationality he exclaimed, '•'-non angli seel angeli " [not 
angles but angels]. Years afterward he remembered the captives 
and sent St. Augustine as a missionary to Britain. 



212 NOTES 

25. Reference to the service of Standish in Flanders. 

28. Arcabucero, originally Spanish word for archer, then mus- 
keteer. 

34. Miles Standish was appointed captain at a meeting held 
Saturday morning, February 17, 1621. 

46. Howitzer, a short, light cannon with a large bore. These 
lines show truly the precaution which the colonists took against 
sudden attacks by the Indians. 

52. Sagamore, Indian chief of the second rank ; sachem, of the 
first rank ; pow-wow, a conjurer or medicine-man. 

53. These names of Indians are all to be found in the chronicles. 
61. "Jan. 29, dies Rose, the wife of Captain Standish. N.B. 

This month eight of our number die." 

70. " Militarie Discipline : or the Young Artillery Man, Wherein 
is Discoursed and Shown the Postures both of Musket and Pike, 
the Exactest Way, &c., &c., * ^if * * * By Colonel William Bar- 
riffe." 

71. Goldinge was a translator whose translation of Ovid's Meta- 
morphoses was highly regarded in the Elizabethan Age. 

83. The Mayflower started on her return voyage April 5, 1621. 
" We despatch the ship with Captain Jones, who this day sails 
from New Plymouth and May 6, arrives in England." 

85. Among those who came over in the Mayflower were "Mr. 
William Mullines and his wife and 2 children, Joseph and Priscila ; 
and a servant, Robart Carter." 

99. Caius Julius Caesar. For an account of his life see Plutarch's 
Lives translated by A. H. Clough. "In his journey, as he was 
crossing the Alps, and passing by a small village of the barbarians 
with but few inhabitants, and those wretchedly poor, his com- 
panions asked the question among themselves by way of mockery, 
if there were any canvassing for offices there ; any contention 
which should be uppermost, or feuds of great men one against an- 
other. To which Csesar made answer seriously, 'For my part, I 



MILES STANDISH 213 

had rather be the first man among these fellows, than the second 
man in Rome.' " 

133. "And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man 
shonld be alone ; I will make him an help meet for him." 

— Genesis ii. 18. 

139. She is alone. Bradford writes, " Mr. William Mollines and 
his wife, his soue and his servant dyed the first winter. Only his 
daughter Priscilla survived and married with John Alden, who are 
both living and have 11 children." 

206. Astaroth, the chief female divinity of the Phoenicians and 
Baal, the principal male god ; usually the former is the moon- 
goddess, the latter the sun-god. 

210. Mayflowers, in England the hawthorn, in New England 
the trailing arbutus. 

212. Reference to the old story of Babes lost in the Woods and 
covered with leaves by the robin. 

224. The One Hundredth Psalm, according to the Ainsworth 
translation, begins thus : — 

Bow to Jehovah all the earth. 
Serve ye Jehovah with gladness ; 

before him come with singing mirth. 
Know that Jehovah he God is. It's he that 

made us and not we, his flock and sheep of his feeding. 

These three verses will sufficiently show how harsh was the transla- 
tion so generally used by the Pilgrims. 

225. Martin Luther (1483-1546), the great German reformer, 
translator of the Bible, and founder of the present literary lan- 
guage of Germany. His translation of the Bible occupies about 
the same position in German as the King James version of the 
Bible in English. 

231. Henry Ainsworth (1571-1022) was a separatist clergyman 
and distinguished scholar, who, driven from England by the reli- 
gious persecutions, settled in Amsterdam and preached and taught. 



214 



NOTES 



245. "And Jesus said unto him, No man having put his hand 
to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God." 

— Liike ix. 62. 

269. A real English picture. 

321. "There are at this time in England two ancient families 
of the name, one of Standish Hall and the other of Duxbury Park, 
both in Lancashire, who trace their descent from a common ances- 
tor, Ralph de Standish, living in 1221." 

324. Terms of heraldry. 

343. A reference to the Book of lievelation, chapters xxi and 
xxii. 

350- 

eaten. 

362. 
392- 



A sea-weed of a reddish brown color which is sometimes 



II Samuel ii. 3. 

Edward Winslow, in his Letter at the end of his Bela- 
tion^ says, " We have built seven dwelling-houses, and four for the 
use of the plantation." In Hazard's State Papers, I, p. 100, is 
found the following plan of the seven houses : — 



The North Side. 



20 



The South Side. 
Peter Brown. 
John Goodman. 
Mr. Brewster [Elder Brewster]. 



Highway 



[Town Brook]. 



John Billington. 
Mr. Isaac Allerton. 
Francis Cooke. 
Edward Winslow. 



MILES STAN DISH 215 

415. Wat Tyler (Walter the Tyler) headed a revolt of peasants 
of England m 1381. He is said to have led, with Jack Straw, a 
body of men of Kentshire and Essexshire to London. He was 
killed at Smithfield by Lord Mayor Walworth. 

442. William Brewster was chosen Elder while the congre- 
gation of John Robinson was in Leyden. Governor Bradford, 
in his Memoir of Elder Brewster^ has left us a valuable account 
of the private and official character of this first American min- 
ister. 

448. This was probably the Geneva Bible, the translation made 
in 1560 by a group of eminent scholars who settled at Geneva, 
Switzerland. Of these translators the chief were John Knox and 
Miles Coverdale, who were exiled from England, and John Calvin, 
the Geneva scholar. 

450. A common form of challenge in colonial times. See Abiel 
Holmes, Annals of America^ I, 177. In Winslow's Belation (edited 
by Dr. Young) occurs the following account, p. 281 : — 

" At length came one of them to us, who was sent by Conanacus, 
their chief sachem or king, accompanied with one Tokamahamon, 
a friendly Lidian. This messenger inquired for Tisquantum, our 
interpreter, who not being at home, seemed rather to be glad than 
sorry, and leaving for him a bundle of new arrows, lapped in a 
rattlesnake's skin, desired to depart with all expedition." . . . 
" Hereupon, after some deliberation, the Governor stuffed the skin 
with powder and shot, and sent it back, returning no less defiance 
to Conanacus." 

486. "All things being now in readiness, the forenamed Cap- 
tain, with ten men and accompanied with Tisquantum and Hob- 
bamock, set forwards for the Masschusets. Bat we had no sooner 
turned the point of the harbour, called the Gurnet's Nose, but there 
came an Indian of Tisquantum's family running to certain of o»r 
people that were from home with all eagerness, having his face 
wounded, and the blood still fresh on the same, calling to them to 



216 NOTES 

return home" — with the fear that the Indians were about to 
assault the town in the Captain's absence. 

547. Stephen Hopkins, Richard Warren, Gilbert Winslow. 
" Stephen Hopkins, whose name stands the fourteenth in ordi r 
among the signers of the Compact, with the honorable prefix of 
Mr., seems to have been a person of some consideration among the 
Pilgrims." Richard Warren stands twelfth in the list, and Gilbert 
Winslow thirty-first. 

551. Mr. Jones was master, or captain, of the Mayflower. 

558. Gunwale, the upper edge of the boat's side. 

560. Thwarts are the seats which reach from one side to the 
other. 

599. And this, despite the very hard winter which they had 
experienced and the unfavorable prospects before them. 

6o5. The scene of the first conflict between the Pilgrims and 
the Indians. 

664. " And a river went out of Eden to water the garden. . . . 
The name of the first is Pison. , . . And the name of the second 
river is Gihon. . . . And the name of the third river is Hiddekel. 
. . . And the fourth river is Euphrates." — Genesis ii. 10 ff. 

745. In Winslow's Belation the chapter entitled, " Standish's 
expedition against the Indians of Wessagusset [Weymouth], and 
the breaking up of Weston's colony at that place," gives an ac- 
count of this expedition. The poet has taken the liberty to change 
the time of his source, since, according to history, the 3Iayflower 
returned in April, 1621, and the expedition occurred in March, 
1623. 

755. I Samuel xvii. 4 ; Numbers xxi. 33. 

756-820. "Many times after, divers of them severally, or few 
together, came to the plantation to him [Captain Standish], where 
they would whet and sharpen the points of their knives before his 
face, and use many other insulting gestures and speeches. Among 
the rest Wituwamat bragged of the excellency of his knife. On 



MILES ST AN DISH 217 

the end of the handle there was pictured a woman's face ; ' But, 
said lie, ' I have another at home, wherewith 1 have killed both 
French and English, and that hath a man's face on it ; and by and 
by these two must marry.' Further he said of that knife he there 
had, ' Hinnaim namen, hinnaim michen, matta cuts ' ; that is to 
say, ' By and by it should see, and by and by it should eat, but not 
speak.' Also Pecksuot, being a man of greater stature than the 
Captain, told him, though he were a great captain, yet he was but 
a little man ; 'And,' said he, 'though I be no sachem, yet I am a 
man of great strength and courage. ' These things the Captain ob- 
served, yet bare with patience for the present. 

" On the next day, seeing he could not get many of them together 
at once, and this Pecksuot and Wituwamat both together, with 
another man, and a youth of some eighteen years of age, which 
was brother to Wituwamat and, villain-like, trod in his steps, daily 
putting many tricks upon the weaker sort of men, and having about 
as many of his own company in a room with them, gave the word 
to his men, and the door being fast shut, began with Pecksuot, and 
snatching his own knife from his neck, though with much strug- 
gling, killed him therewith, the point whereof he had made as sharp 
as a needle, and ground the back also to an edge. Wituwamat and 
the other man the rest killed, and took the youth, whom the Cap- 
tain caused to be hanged. But it is incredible how many wounds 
these two pineses [braves] received before they died, not making 
any fearful noise, but catching at their weapons and striving to the 
last. Hobbamock stood by all this time as a spectator, and med- 
dled not, observing how our men demeaned themselves in this 
action. All being here ended, smiling he brake forth into these 
speeches to the captain : ' Yesterday Pecksuot, bragging of his own 
strength and stature, said, though you were a great captain, yet 
you were but a little man ; but to-day I see you are big enough to 
lay him on the ground.' " 

825. "In the latter end of July and the beginning of August 



218 NOTES 

came two ships with supply unto us." These ships were the Anne 
and the Little James. 

829. Merestead, a bounded lot. 

840. Edward Winslow wrote back to England a letter, on the 
11th of December, 1621, "setting forth a brief and true declara- 
tion of the worth of that plantation ; also certain useful directions 
for such as iivtend a voyage into those parts." This letter is one 
of the most interesting documents of early New England in the 
instructions which it gives for the furnishing of the new habitations. 

846. The Alden homestead at Duxbury, Massachusetts. 

858. Proverbs xxxi. 10. 

872. A very famous German legend. 

921. Try sting-place, a place designated for the assembling of 
soldiers or the meeting of parties for an interview. 

927. Exodus xxviii. 

936. Book of Buth, chapter iv. 

973. An old English proverb. 

1013. "The place was called the brook of Eshcol, because of 
the cluster of grapes which the children of Israel cut down from 
thence." — Numbers xiii. 24. 

1015. See the beautiful account of the coming of Rebecca, the 
meeting and marriage with Isaac, Genesis xxiv. 

, PRELUDE (Page 63) 

43. Pentecost, a Jewish festival celebrated on the fifteenth day 
after the second day of the Passover. In the Catholic church, it 
commemorates the descent of the Holy Spirit on the apostles, called 
also Whitsunday. 

46. Bishop's-caps, called also miterwort, a plant so named be- 
cause the pod looks like the cap or mitre of a bishop, 

83. In the fall of 1839, Longfellow published his first volume of 
original poems. The Voices of the Night. To these he added 



HYMN TO THE NIGHT 219 

five which he selected from his eontributioii to various magazines 
and papers, and prefixed The Prelude. It will be observed that 
the poet speaks of the change of thought and feeling between the 
early and the late poems. 

HYMN TO THE NIGHT (Page 67) 

21. Orestes, a character in Greek legend, the son of Agamemnon 
and Clytemnestra. He slew his mother, Clytemnestra, and was 
pursued by the Furies. The Greek tragic poets, especially Eurip- 
ides, were fond of this legend for their dramas. 

A PSALM OF LIFE (Page 08) 

This poem was published in Knickerbocker Magazine, Octo- 
ber, 1838, and has always been one of the most widely read of 
Longfellow's poems. It is especially characteristic of the young 
poet, who was nuich given to moralizing. These lines have been a 
source of real inspiration to men and women all over the world. 
They announced a high ideal and struck a new note of genuine 
courage. 

THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS (Page 69) 

This poem was written in 1838, and published in 1839 in Knicker- 
bocker Magazine with the second title, A Psalm of Death. 

THE LIGHT OF STARS (Page 71) 

This poem was published in Knickerbocker Magazine, January, 
1839, where it was entitled, A Second Psalm of Life. 

8. Mars, a Latin deity, worshipped as god of war ; also the name 
of the planet next outside the earth in the solar system, strikingly 
red in color. " Mars is generally represented as of a youthful but 
powerful figure, armed with a helmet, shield, and sjDear ; he is 
sometimes represented as bearded and heavily armed." 



220 NOTES 

FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS (Page 72) 

This poem was finished Marcli 26, 18o0, having been begun al- 
most a year before. Longfellow sometimes called this poem a third 
Psalm of Life. 

13. The beloved friend and brother-in-law of the poet, George 
W. Pierce, of whose death Longfellow heard while abroad, Christ- 
mas Eve, 1835. 

21. His wife, Mary Longfellow, who died November 29, 1835, at 
Rotterdam. An account of the death of Mrs. Longfellow may be 
read in the poet's own words, in T. W. Higginson's LongfelloiG., 
American Men of Letters Series. See also the poem Besignation 
(page 153). 

FLOWERS (Page 74) 

6. Astrologers, observers of the stars who profess to determine 
the influence of stars on persons and events. Eld, an obsolete form 
of old. 

36. Ruth, the beautiful pastoral story of Ruth gleaning in the 
fields of Boaz, to be found in the Bible. 

THE BELEAGUERED CITY (Page 76) 

5. Moldau, the chief river in Bohemia. It flows past Prague 
and then joins the Elbe. 

MIDNIGHT MASS FOR THE DYING YEAR (Page 78) 

This poem was written September 17, 1839, and called The 
Autumnal Chant. It was published in Knickerbocker Magazine 
as The Fifth Psalm. 

24. Reference to the tragic character in Shakespeare's drama, 
King Lear., who was cast out-of-doors by his two ungrateful 
daughters and became mad. 



HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS 221 

48. Labrador is the peninsula between the Gulf of St. Lawrence, 
the Atlantic Ocean, Hudson Bay, and Hudson Strait. 

49. After the publication of the poem, the critics raised a ques- 
tion over the word " Euroclydon." To tliis criticism, the poet 
replied : "Tliey are raising a slight breeze against the word Euro- 
clydon. But I am right, notwithstanding. It means a storm-wind, 
or a north-easter, coming over the seas ; and is no more confined 
to the Mediterranean than rude Boreas. Look into Robinson's 
Lexicon and you will find the whole explained." 

60. Kyrie, eleyson ! 

Christe, eleyson ! 
Greek words meaning, " Lord have mercy upon us. Christ have 
mercy upon us," used in the mass and the litany of the saints. 

HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS OF BETHLEHEM 

(Page 81) 

The Moravians are a Christian denomination that traces itP 
origin to John Huss, the Bohemian reformer. They have a large 
and prosperous settlement at Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. 

It is said that while Lafayette lay sick at Bethlehem, Pulaski 
visited him and ordered the flag of crimson silk which formed the 
standard of his legion. Count Pulaski entered the American ser- 
vice in 1777 ; served at Brandywine, and formed the corps called 
" Pulaski's Legion " in 1778; was mortally wounded at Savannah 
in 1779. 

7. Later editions read "crimson " in this line instead of " blood- 
red." 

SUNRISE ON THE HILLS (Page 83) 

18. The bittern is a kind of heron that makes a noise frequently 
called booming, 

30. Dingle, a small dell or secluded valley. 



222 NOTJiJS 

31. This poem is one of Longfellow's first and shows particu- 
larly in the last stanza the influence which Bryant had upon the 
young poet. 

THE SPIRIT OF POETRY (Page 84) 

10. Cowled and dusky-sandaled, wearing a hood and sandals. 
Sandals are soles strapped to the bottom of the feet for shoes. 

11. " weeds," the poetical word for clothing. 

44. This line was afterward changed to "Within her tender 
eye." This poem was one of the first which Longfellow wrote after 
he left college. 



f 



BURIAL OF THE MINNISINK (Page 86) 

18. The funeral of an Indian chief or any barbarian leader is 
always accompanied by great ceremony. Much of the superstition 
of the people is centred in the funeral rites. It was customary to 
place in or near the grave the dead warrior's weapons and some- 
times his dog or battle-steed. 

25. Roebuck, a kind of small deer, which is usually found in a 
mountainous country. 

29. Cuirass, literally, a breastplate of leather ; now the word 
for a piece of defensive armor reaching from the neck to the girdle. 



THE SKELETON IN ARMOR (Page 88) 

Published in Knickerbocker Ilagazine^ 1841. A skeleton in 
armor had been dug up near Fall River, Massachusetts, and was be- 
lieved by many to be the remains of a Norseman. A full description 
of the skeleton may be read in The American 3IonthJy 3Iagazine, 
January, 1836. Some archseological students began to connect the 
skeleton with the old tower at Newport, Rhode Island, which some 
have supposed to have been erected by the early Norsemen ; at pres- 
ent, however, the best authorities regard the skeleton as that of 
an Indian. 

■ I 



THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS 223 

5. Reference to the art of embalming practised chiefly by the 
Egyptians. 

17. Viking (Old Norse Vikingr), pirate or freebooter. 

19. Skald or scald, the name given to the ancient Scandinavian 
poets or singers. 

20. Saga, Scandinavian name for legend or myth. 

28. Gerfalcon or gyrfalcon, so called because of its circling flight. 
Latin gi/rtis means "circle." 

38. Were-wolf, literally, man-wolf, a person transformed into 
a wolf by some supernatural influence or voluntarily. Formerly 
belief in were-wolves was very common. 

49. Wassail is derived from the Anglo-Saxon words wes hal, be 
in health, an expression of good wishes, especially in drinking. Then 
it came to be the term for the drink. Bout means a contest or a 
turn, hence wassail-bout or drinking-bout. 

53. Berserk or Berserker, in Scandinavian mythology, a hero 
" who fought frenzied by intoxicating -liquors and naked, regard- 
less of wounds." 

77. Hildebrand, a celebrated legendary character of German ro- 
mance, whose story is told in Hildebrandslied and who also appears 
in the famous Middle High German poem called Nihelungenlied. 

no. The cape at the northeastern corner of Jutland, Denmark. 

122. Cormorant, literally " sea-raven," a voracious eater of fish ; 
hence an emblem of gluttony. 

159. The Scandinavian salutation when drinking a health. 



THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS (Page 93) 

Longfellow's Journal for December 30, 1839, reads as follows : — 

" I wrote last evening a notice of Allston's poems. After which 

I sat till twelve o'clock by my fire, smoking, when suddenly it came 

into my mind to write the Ballad of the Schooner Hesperus; 



224 NOTES 

which I accordingly did. Then I went to bed, but could not sleep. 
New thoughts were running in my mind, and I got up to add them 
to the ballad. It was three by the clock. I then went to bed and 
fell asleep. I feel pleased with the ballad. It hardly cost me an 
effort. It did not come into my mind by lines, bat by stanzas." 

A few days later, Park Benjamin, editor of the New Worlds 
writes, "Your ballad, The Wreck of the Hesperus^ is grand. En- 
closed are twenty -five dollars, the sum you mentioned for it, paid 
by the proprietors of the New Worlds in which glorious paper it 
will resplendently coruscate on Saturday next. Of all American 
journals the New World is alone worthy to contain it ! " 

14. The Spanish Main was a popular name for the northern 
coast of South America from the mouth of the Orinoco to the west, 
frequently confused with the Caribbean Sea. 

60. Norman's Woe, off the coast of Gloucester, Massachusetts. 



THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH (Page 97) 

Longfellow wrote this very popular poem October 5, 1839, and 
called it A New Fsalm of Life. The suggestion came from the 
blacksmith's shop which the poet passed daily and which stood 
under a large horse-chestnut tree near his house. The tree was 
cut down in 1876. From a piece of its wood was made a chair, 
which was presented to the poet, by the school children of Cam- 
bridge, on his seventy-second birthday, in 1879. The poem has 
always been popular, and may truly be called a real American 
idyl. 

GOD'S-ACRE (Page 99) 

Longfellow afterward added a stanza which he considered an 
improvement, by leaving the mind not on the furrow, but on tin 
" waving harvest beyond." 



TO THE RIVER CHARLES 225 

TO THE RIVER CHARLES (Page 100) 

The Charles River separates Boston from Cambridge and flows 
in front of Craigie House, the old Revolutionary mansion that after- 
ward became the home of Longfellow. 

30. Three friends whose names were Charles : Charles Sumner, 
Charles Folsom, Charles Amory. 

THE GOBLET OF LIFE (Page 101) 

8. Hippocrene, a fountain on Mt. Helicon in Greece, sacred to 
the Muses. 

10. Mistletoe, a plant found on different kinds of trees, espe- 
cially apple, oak, and maple. It was very early consecrated to re- 
ligious purposes by the Celts and, particularly, by the Druids. 
Many superstitions still prevail about its charms. Note the powers 
attributed to the fennel in the following stanzas. 

41. Ajax, one of the Greek heroes in the Trojan War, well 
known for his size and beauty. According to poetical tradition, 
he became mad and attacked and slew the sheep of the Greeks, 
imagining them to be his enemies. 

MAIDENHOOD (Page 104) 

Longfellow liked this poem especially, and thought this and 
Excelsior the best he had written. 

18. Elysium, or the Elysian Fields, were the fabled abode of 
the souls of the good and heroes exempt from death ; in classical 
mythology, always described as a place of exceeding bliss. 

21. Because the falcon was commonly trained to pursue and 
entrap other birds. 

EXCELSIOR (Page 106) 

This poem was written September 28, 1841. "One day Mr. 
Longfellow's eye fell upon a scrap of newspaper, a part of the 
Q 



226 NOTES 

heading of one of the New York journals, bearing the seal of the 
State of New York, — a shield, with a rising sun and the motto, in 
heraldic Latin, ' Excelsior.' At once there sprang up in his imagi- 
nation the picture of the youth scaling the Alpine pass. . . . This 
the poet made a symbol of the aspiration and sacrifice of a nobly 
ideal soul, whose words and aim are ' an unknown tongue ' to the 
multitude ; and who, refusing to listen to the cautions of experience 
or prudence, or to the pleadings of home affections, of woman's 
love, or of formal religion, presses on to a higher goal. This goal 
he does not perfectly attain in this life, but in dying still presses 
on to a higher beyond." — Samuel Longfellow's Life of the Poet^ 
Vol. I, p. 384 note. 

32. Saint Bernard was a celebrated French monk of the eleventh 
century and a famous preacher of the second Crusade. Then the 
name for a monastery high in the Alps, maintained for the relief 
of travellers. The Saint Bernard dogs helped to find those who 
were lost in the snow. 

THE SERENADE (Page 107) 

This little song is taken from The Simnish Student, a comedy 
which was published in book form in 1843, and was intended for 
stage presentation. 

CAIULLON (Page 108) 

"In the evening, heard the Bell-Ringers, a human carillon! 
They seemed to toss the sounds from one bell and catch them in 
another ; and, half closing one's eyes and giving reins to fancy, it 
was easy to imagine all the steeples in Belgium met together and 
tossing the notes from their bells." — Longfellovf s Journal^ October 
29, 1849. 

Carillon is the French word for a chime of bells. 

I. Bruges is the capital of the province of West Flanders, Bel- 
gium, at one time the commercial centre of Europe. It was an 



THE BELFRY OF BRUGES 227 

important town as early as the seventh century. To-day it is of 
interest to the tourist on account of its cathedral with fine paintings 
and glass. 

38. Roundelays, songs in which lines or phrases are continually 
repeated. 

39. Conceits, witty thoughts or turns of expression. 
Ditties, little poems or songs. 

THE BELFRY OF BRUGES (Page 111) 

Published January, 1843, in Grahani's Magazine. See The 
Carillon and note (page 108). 

19. The early governors of Flanders, appointed by the King of 
France, were called Foresters. 

22. The Order of the Golden Fleece was founded by Philip the 
Good, Duke of Burgundy, at Bruges in 1430. The badge of the 
order is a golden ram. 

25. Maximilian was son of the Emperor Frederick the Third. 

Marie de Valois, duchess of Burgundy, was famous for her 
gentleness and virtue. 

29. Reference to Flemish heroes and historical events. 

32. The Golden Dragon was taken from the church of St. Sophia^ 
at Constantinople, and placed on the belfry of Bruges, then trans- 
ported to Ghent. 

36. The inscription on the bell reads : " Mynen naem is Roland ; 
als ik klep is er brand, and als ik luy is er victorie in het land " 
(My name is Roland ; when I toll there is fire, and when I ring 
there is victory in the land) . 

A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE (Page 114) 

In his Journal for August 31, 1846, Longfellow writes, " In the 
afternoon a delicious drive with F and C through Brookline, by the 
church and the ' green lane,' and homeward through a lovelier lane, 



228 NOTES 

with barberries and wild vines clustering over the old stone walls." 
This became the scene of the poem, "A Gleam of Sunshine." 
" F " was Cornelius Conway Felton, a distinguished classical scholar 
and intimate friend of Longfellow. He afterward became presi- 
dent of Harvard University. '' C " was the poet-s son Charles, born 
June 9, 1844. 

32. " And he dreamed and behold a ladder set up on the earth, 
and the top of it reached to heaven : and behold the angels of God 
ascending and descending on it." — Genesis xxviii. 12. 

THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD (Page 116) 

In July, 1843, Longfellow was married to Francis Elizabeth 
Appleton. On their wedding journey through the Berkshire Hills 
they visited the Arsenal at Springfield. Charles Sumner was with 
them at Springfield and remarked that the money expended upon 
the weapons of war would have been better spent upon a library. 
Mrs. Longfellow suggested " how like an organ looked the ranged 
and shining gun-barrels which covered the walls from floor to ceil- 
ing and what mournful music Death would bring from them." 
The poem was composed a few months later. 

7. Miserere. That part of the Roman Catholic liturgy which is 
used for the sick and burial service. So called because the fifty- 
first Psalm, commonly used in this service, begins, "Miserere mei, 
Domine " (Have mercy upon me, O Lord ! ). 

14. Cimbric, an ancient Celtic people of Central Europe. 

16. Tartar, more properly Tatar, the present form of the word 
perhaps due to confusion with Tartarus, the word for the Greek 
abyss or hades, Tartars are tribes of peoples of Turkish and Mon- 
golian origin, inhabiting Eastern Europe and Western Asia. 

A graphic account of the flight of one of the great Tartar tribes 
may be read in De Quincey's BevoU of the Tartars. 

19. Aztec, the band of Indians who occupied the valley of New 



RAIN IN SUMMER 229 

Mexico. Their power was reduced by the invasion of Cortez in 
1519. See Prescott's Conquest of 3Iexico. 

Teocalli, plural teocallis, literally, God's house ; a temple, usu- 
ally of pyramidal shape, built by the early inhabitants of Mexico. 

28. Diapason, literally a concord through all the tones ; the 
entire compass of voice or instrument. 

40. Genesis iv. 15. 

Because he killed his brother Abel, Cain became a fugitive and 
a vagabond, and according to the tradition of the Middle Ages 
was the first parent of all criminals and evil-doers. 

RAIN IN SUMMER (Page 118) 

63. Aquarius, literally water-bearer, one of the signs of the 
Zodiac, representing a man standing with his left hand extended 
upward, and with his right hand pouring out of a vase a stream of 
water which flows into the mouth of the Southern fish. 

81. The rainbow. 

THE BRIDGE (Pa^e 121) 

Longfellow finished " The Bridge Over the Charles," as he first 
called the poem, on October 9, 1845, and "retouched" it on the 
17th. The Charles River separates Cambridge from Boston. 

THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS (Page 125) 

Written November 12, 1845. 

2. The Gold House in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, was the home- 
stead of Mrs. Longfellow's maternal grandfather. Longfellow and 
Mrs. Longfellow visited this house at the same time that they saw 
the Arsenal at Springfield, on their wedding journey in the summer 
of 1843. 

6g. Horologe, literally, clock, a timepiece of any kind. 



230 NOTES 



THE ARROW AND THE SONG (Page 127) 

"Before church wrote The Arrow and the Song, which came 
into my mind as I stood with my back to the fire, and glanced on 
to the paper with arrowy speed. Literally an improvisation." 

— Journal, November 16, 1845. 

AUTUMN (Page 128) 

3. Samarcand, a city of Turkestan, Asia, long famous for the 
manufacture of cotton and silk. 

5. Charlemagne, the great king of the Eranks and emperor of 
the Romans, crowned at St. Peter's, Rome, on Christmas day, 800. 
His reign was distinguished by conquest and by his favor toward 
scholars and the fine arts. 

9. Harvest moon, the full moon nearest the autumn equinox, 
the 21st of September, 

DANTE (Page 128) 

Dante (originally Durante) Alighieri was born at Florence 
in 1265 and died at Ravenna, Italy, in 1321. He became the " first 
Italian" and is often called " the great Tuscan," since Tuscany is 
the province which has Florence for its chief city. Dante was 
driven from his beloved city in 1302 and spent the rest of his life 
in aimless wandering over the face of the earth. In the course of 
his wandering he wrote one of the great books of the world. The 
Divine Comedy. 

4. Farinata degli Uberti was a leader of the Ghibelline faction 
in Florence in the thirteenth century, in the great conflict between 
the party of the king and the party of the pope. Dante speaks 
i)f Farinata as the saviour of his country. 



CURFEW 231 

CURFEW (Page 129) 

3. Curfew, literally "cover fire." A bell was rung at an early 
hour in the evening as a signal to the inhabitants of the town to 
put out the lights and fires. The practice probably existed in 
England in the early part of the eleventh century, having been 
established to prevent fires and troubles in the streets. 

THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP (Page 130) 

The poet's Jo^irnal tells the story of the writing of the poem, 
June 18, 1849. " Sat and wrote The Building of the Ship. Sep- 
tember 20, 1849, The Building of the Ship goes on. It will be 
rather long. Will it be good ? " September 22, 1849, " Finished 
this morning The Building of the Ship.''"' 

29. The great Harry. The first British war ship, built in 1488 
for Henry VII. 

Crank, unsteady, in danger of careening and upsetting. See 
notes on " Phantom Ship," p. 170. 

37. I wis is an adverb meaning certainly, but is sometimes 
wrongly treated as if it were a pronoun and verb, as here, for 
" I know." 

61. Pascagoula, a river in Mississippi. 

62. Roanoke, a river in Virginia and North Carolina. 
69. Wooden wall, ship. 

73. Argosy, a merchant vessel of the largest size. See Mer- 
chant of Venice. 

95. Slip, the plane upon which the ship is built and from which 
it is launched. 

127. "Excelleth " in later editions. 

137. Scarfed, joined as if in one piece. 

160. Madagascar, an island in the Indian Ocean east of Africa. 

161. Lascar, a native sailor or menial about the camps. 



232 NOTES' 

178. Stemson, the pieces of timber which are bolted to the stem ; 
keelson, the pieces that bind the floor timbers to the keel ; sternson- 
knee, the end of the keelson to which the sternpost is bolted. Ali 
terms in ship-building. 

214. Naiads, water-nymphs who were supposed to preside ever 
streams and fountains. 

219. Sark, an old word for shirt. 

337. Fortunate Isles, or the Blessed Isles, supposed to lie in 
the Western Ocean (Atlantic), where the gods abode in eternal joy. 

347. Shores and spurs, props. 

SEAWEED (Page 143) 

3. Equinox, the moment when the sun crosses the plane of the 
earth's equator, thus making the day and night everywhere of 
equal length. 

14. Skerry, a rocky isle or reef. 

SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT (Page 147) 

Humphrey Gilbert was a well-known English navigator, step- 
brother of Walter Raleigh. He set out on many expeditions, on 
one of which (1583) he sighted Newfoundland and established the 
first English colony in North America, His ship foundered on its 
return to England. Sir Humphrey perished and is said to have 
uttered as his last words the sentence, " We are as near to heaven 
by sea as by land," 

2, Corsair, a freebooter or privateer, a captain or ship that 
scours tlie coast or sea for gain. 

13. Campobello, a town in Sicily. 

36. Ground-swell, a broad, deep swell or rolling of the sea, 
caused by a distant storm or gale, 

39. The Spanish Main is a term rather vaguely applied to the 
north coast of South America, Late editions of tlie poem read, — 
" With mist and rain, o'er the open main," 



J 



THE LIGHTHOUSE 



THE LIGHTHOUSE (Page 149) 

Written November 7, 1849. 

4. "And the Lord went before them by day in a pillar of a 
cloud, to lead them the way ; and by night in a pillar of fire, to 
give them light ; to go by day and night." — JE'xodws xiii. 21. 

17. Christopher, literally, Christ-bearer. A martyr of the third 
century, who was reputed as having great size and strength. As 
a penance for having served the devil, he devoted himself to the 
task of carrying pilgrims across a stream where there was no 
bridge. Christ came to the river one day in the form of a child 
and asked to be carried over ; but his weight grew heavier and 
heavier, till his bearer was nearly broken down in the middle of 
the stream. 

49. For deceit practised upon him by Prometheus, Jove denied 
to man the use of fire ; but Prometheus stole it from heaven and 
brought it to earth in a hollow reed. For this offence, he was 
chained to Mt. Caucasus, where daily his liver was consumed by 
an eagle. 

RESIGNATION" (Page 153) 

7. " Thus saith the Lord ; A voice was heard in Ramah, lamenta- 
tion, and bitter weeping ; Rachel weeping for her children refused 
to be comforted for her children, because they were not." 

— Jeremiah ^^'n.. 15. 

g. " Although affliction cometh not forth out of the dust, neither 
doth trouble spring out of the ground." — Job v. 6. 

21. Mary Storer Potter, a friend and schoolmate of the poet, 
was married to him September 14, 1831, she being then nineteen 
years of age. She died in 1835 at Rotterdam, while they were 
abroad for study. See the poem Footsteps of Angels and note 
(page 72). 



234 NOTES 

THE BUILDERS (Page 155) 
Finished May 9, 1846. 

BIRDS OF PASSAGE (Page 157) 

Written November 1, 1845. This subject was afterward used to 
embrace several poems which appeared in various magazines. 

GASPAR BECERRA (Page 158) 

The poem was written September 30, 1849. Becerra was a 
Spanish painter. 

This poem is characteristic of tlie simple manner in whicli Long- 
fellow could apply the life or work of any person whom he chose 
as a subject of his work. 

PEGASUS IN POUND (Page 159) 

" Work in college all day. ... In the evening, Faculty-meet- 
ing. After which I sat by the fire in my deep chair and wrote the 
greater part of Pegasus in Pound, — a proem to the collection to 
be entitled llie Estray.^^ — Jotwnal, November 9, 1846. 

Pegasus, the winged horse of the Muses, sprang from the blood 
of Medusa, when she was slain by Perseus. With a stroke of his 
hoof he was fabled to have caused to well forth on Mt. Helicon, 
the poetically inspiring fountain of Hippocrene. 

40. Alectryon, Greek word for cock ; the poetical name for the 
domestic cock. 

THE SINGERS (Page 162) 

November 6, 1849. Longfellow said that he wrote this poem " to 
show the excellence of different kinds of song." Here the three 
singers charm, strengthen, and teach. 



I 



PROMETHEUS 235 

PROMETHEUS (Page 163) 

" Writing a poem, which I hope will turn out a good one, — 
Prometheus and Epimetheus, — the before and after; the feeling 
of the first design and execution compared with that with which 
one looks back upon the work when done." — Journal, May 16, 
1854. 

Again January 25, 1855, he says: ^^ Putnam'' s Marjazine for 
February comes, with 'Prometheus and Epimetheus,' in which 
I try to portray the ardor of poetic composition, and the feeling of 
disappointment and dissatisfaction with which we look upon our 
work when the glow has passed away.*" 

1. Prometheus stole fire from heaven and was chained by Jove 
to Mt. Caucasus, where an eagle devoured his liver. See the poem 
"The Lighthouse" (page 149). 

2. Olympus, a prominent mountain in Greece, which came to be 
regarded as the abode of the gods, 

31. Dante, see the sonnet on " Dante " and note (page 128). 

33. Milton (1608-1674), one of England's greatest poets, whose 
most distinguished work was the epic '* Paradise Lost," 

Cervantes, the author of the Spanish romance, Don Quixote 
(1605), perhaps the greatest Spanish writer. 

34. Corybantes, "the priests of the Goddess Rh^a in Phrygia, 
whose worship they celebrated by orgiastic dances." 

EPIMETHEUS (Page 165) 

Epimetheus was the brother of Prometheus and the husband of 
Pandora. 

3. Hymeneal, relating to marriage. Hymen was the son of 
Bacchus and Aphrodite or Venus, and was the god of marriage. 

g. The dithyramb was at first a choral song in honor of the 
Greek god, Dionysus, then of other gods and heroes ; fiaally it be- 
came the name of a form of Greek lyrical composition. 



236 NOTES 

35. In Greek legend, Icarus was the son of Daedalus, and was 
drowned in the sea because in his flight he came too near the sun 
and his wings melted. 

36. In Greek mythology, Pandora was the first woman created 
by Zeus. She became the wife of Epimetheus, and brought down 
all the evils upon mankind. "Pandora's box" contained all the 
blessings of life. She opened it and allowed all to escape except 
hope. 

37. Jove or Jupiter, the supreme deity in Roman myth, corre- 
sponding to Zeus in Greek mythology. 

38. Thetis, the chief of the Nereids, the beautiful maidens of 
Neptune, god of the sea. 

Flora, the goddess of flowers and the spring. 

39. Aurora, the goddess of the dawn, represented as rising out 
of the ocean in a chariot. 

57. Sibyl, a prophetess, often explained as meaning, "one who 
tells the will of Zeus." In mythology, the Sibyls were women who 
possessed certain powers of divination and might serve as mediators 
between men and the gods. 

THE LADDER OF SAINT AUGUSTINE (Page 168) 

I. Saint Augustine was the celebrated father of the Latin 
Church, who lived from 354 a.d. to 430. His most famous work 
was his autobiography or Confessiones. In Sermon III, he says, 
" De vitiis nostris scalara nobis facimus, si vitia ipsa calcamus." 
These words Longfellow has translated in his poem in lines 2-4. 

THE PHANTOM SHIP (Page 170) 

I. Cotton Mather, the author of Magnalia Christi Americana 
(American Ecclesiastical History), was born in Boston 1663 and 
died 1728. He was a famous scholar, author, and clergyman of 
Puritan New England. 



THE FHANTOM SHIP 237 

The story which Longfellow has used in his poem is found in 
the Magnalia, Book I, Chapter 6, and is told by James Pierpont, 
pastor of the New Haven church. 

" Keverend and Dear Sir: In compliance with your desires, I 
now give you the relation of that Apparition or a Ship in the 
Air, which I have received from the most credible, judicious, and 
curious surviving observers of it. 

" In the year 16i7, besides much other lading, a far more rich 
treasure of passengers, (five or six of which were persons of chief 
note and worth in New-Haven) put themselves on board a new 
ship, built at Rhode-Island, of about 150 tuns ; but so walty, that 
the mastei' (Lamberton) often said she would prove their grave. 
In the month of January, cutting their way through much ice, on 
which they were accompanied with the Reverend Mr. Davenport, 
besides many other friends, with many fears, as well as prayers and 
tears, they set sail. Mr. Davenport in prayer, with an observable 
emphasis, used these words : ' Lord, if it be thy pleasure to bury 
these our friends in the bottom of the sea, they are thine : save 
them.' The spring following, no tidings of these friends arrived 
with the ships from England. ... In June next ensuing, a great 
thunder-storm arose out of the northwest after which (the hemi- 
sphere being serene) about an hour before sun-set, a Ship of like 
dimensions with the aforesaid, with her canvas and colours abroad, 
appeared in the air coming up from her harbour's mouth, which 
lyes southward from the town, seemingly with her sails filled under 
a fresh gale, holding her course north, and continuing under obser- 
vation, sailing against the wind for the space of half an hour. 

"Many were drawn to behold this great work of God: yea, the 
very children cryed out, ' There's a brave ship !' At length, crowd- 
ing up as far as there is usually water sufficient for such a vessel, 
and so near some of the spectators, as that they imagined a man 
might hurl a stone on her, her main-top seemed to be blown off, 
but left hanging in the shrouds ; then her mizzen-top ; then all her 



238 NOTES 

masting seemed blown away by the board ; quickly after the hulk 
brought unto a careen, she overset, and so vanished into a sinoaky 
cloud, which in some time dissipated, leaving, as everywhere else, 
a clear air. The admiring spectators could distinguish the several 
colours of each part, the principal rigging, and such proportions, 
as caused not only the generality of persons to say, 'This was the 
mould of their ship, and this was her tragic end.'" 

15. "so crank and walty." Unsteady. Both words are now 
obsolete in this sense. 

THE WARDEN OF THE CINQUE PORTS (Page 172) 

"Copied a poem I have just written, — The Warden of the 
Cinque-Ports.'''' — Journal^ October 14, 1852. 

9. Cinque Ports, the French expression for Five Ports. These 
five towns are the English Channel ports, on the southeast coast 
of England. Down to the time of Henry VII., they furnished most 
of the recruits for the English navy. They are governed even 
to-day by a Lord Warden. 

24. The Duke of Wellington, who died on the 13th of Septem- 
ber, 1852. 

HAUNTED HOUSES (Page 174) 

20. Mortmain, literally, dead hand; "possession of lands in 
dead hands, or hands that cannot transfer, as those of the church." 

31. In the Mediaeval Ages and in the Early Renaissance, the 
notion prevailed that planets had a mysterious and powerful influ- 
ence upon the fates of men. Many words have thus come into 
our language from the dead science of astrology: disaster is "bad 
star," aspect is the way in which the heavens look at each other, 
and influence is the " inflowing" of the power of the planets upon 
the fortune of men, so jovial, saturnine, mercurial. 



THE EMPEROR^S BIRD^S-NEST 239 



EMPEROR'S BIRD'S-NEST (Page 176) 

I. Charles V. (1500-1558) was bom in Flanders, became king 
of Spain in 1516, and Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire in 1519. 

i8. Dragoon, a cavalry soldier; a term used in the British army. 

21. Hidalgo. A contraction for the Spanish words liijo de algo, 
son of something. A title denoting a Spanish nobleman of the 
lower class. 

25. Macho is the Spanish word for mule. 

34. Golondrina is the feminine form for golondrino, the Spanish 
word for swallow. The word has also the colloquial meaning of 
deserter. 

THE TWO ANGELS (Page 178) 

In a letter dated April 25, 1855, the poet gives an account of 
this poem. " It was written on the birth of my younger daughter 
and the death of the young and beautiful wife of my neighbor and 
friend, Lowell. It will serve as an answer to one of your questions 
about life and its many mysteries. To these dark problems there 
is no other solution possible, except the one word ' Providence.' " 

7. The amaranth was an imaginary flower which was supposed 
never to wither. It was found chiefly in classic poetry ; here it 
forms the crown of the Angel of Life. 

8. In Greek mythology the asphodel was the peculiar plant of 
the dead ; its pale blossoms were supposed to cover the meadows 
of Hades. 

THE JEWISH CEMETERY AT NEWPORT (Page 181) 

II. E'iC0(7i<s xxxi. 18. 

21. Synagogue, literally, "a bringing together" ; the name of 
the place of worship of the Jews. 



240 NOTES 

23. Rabbi, literally, "my master" ; a title given to the Jewish 
doctors and expounders of the law. 

Decalogue, the Ten Commandments, given by God to Moses on 
Mt. Sinai. 

32. Ishmael was the son of Abraham and Hagar, Genesis xxi. 
14. After Isaac was born, Ishmael and Hagar were cast into the 
wilderness and became commonly regarded as the ancestors of the 
Arabs. 

34. Ghetto, really the quarter of an Italian city in which the 
Jews were compelled to live. Now a general name for the part of 
any city in which the Jews live. Judenstrass, the German name 
for the same. 

40. Marah. "And when they [the Israelites] came to Marah, 
they could not drink of the waters of Marah, for they were bitter ; 
therefore the name of it was called Marah." — Exodus xv. 23. 

41. The curse of excommunication, a phrase occurring in / Co- 
rinthians xvi. 22. "If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, 
let him be Anathema Maranatha." 

43. Mordecai was the adopted father of Esther, who frustrated 
the scheme of Haman to kill all the Jews. See the Book of Esther. 

55. The beginning of the Hebrew book is where we should ex- 
pect the end, consequently they read backward. 

OLIVER BASSELIN (Page 183) 

Oliver Basselin was a French poet born in Normandy in the 
latter half of the fifteenth century. He wrote many light and gay 
songs, only a few of which are known to-day. He gave the name 
of his native valleys to his songs, Vaux-de-Vire, which has since 
been corrupted into Vaudeville. 

51. The battle of Agincourt was fought, October 25, 1415, be- 
tween the French, under Constable d' Albert, and English, under 
Henry V. The latter were victorious. 



VICTOR GALBRAITH 241 

VICTOR GALBRAITH (Page 186) 

Victor Galbraith was a bugler in a cavalry regiment in the Mexi- 
can War. For some breach of discipline he was condemned to be 
shot. The poem was written April 1, 1855, after a correspondent 
had sent Longfellow a paragraph relating the incident upon which 
the poem is founded. 

26. Refers to the superstition among soldiers that their names 
are written on the bullets which will kill them. 

MY LOST YOUTH (Page 188) 

I. Portland, Maine, where Longfellow was born and where he 
spent his early years. 

13. Hesperides. In Greek mythology, the maidens who guarded 
the golden apples which Earth brought forth as a marriage gift for 
Hera, wife and sister of Zeus. They lived in the extreme west. 

37. This was the fight between the English ship Boxer and the 
American Enterprise^ which took place in 1813, off the harbor of 
Portland. Both the captains were killed, and buried side by side 
in the cemetery overlooking the harbor. 

47. Deering's Woods, at the edge of Portland, where Longfellow 
liked to wander as a boy, now preserved as a city park. 

THE ROPEWALK (Page 191) 

Written May 20, 1854. A ropewalk is a long, low building 
prepared for making ropes. 

25. Mountebank, literally, mount on a bench ; one who sells 
nostrums at fairs and street corners. 

THE GOLDEN MILE-STONE (Page 193) 

6. Afreet or afrit is the Arabic word for demon or monstrous 
ffiant. 



242 NOTES 

14. Ariel is the sprite in Shakespeare's Tempest. Prospero 
reminds him of his servitude with the foul witch Sycorax, I, 2 : — 

" As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant ; 
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate 
To act her earthy and abhorr'd conunands, 
Kefusing her grand hests, she did confine thee 
By help of her more potent ministers 
And in her most unmitigable rage. 
Into a cloven pine : within which rift 
Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain 
A dozen years ; within which space she died, 
And left thee there : where thou didst vent thy groans 
As fast as mill-wheels strike." 

CATAWBA WINE (Page 195) 

8. Scuppernong, Isabel, Muscadel, Mustang, all are names of 
varieties of American grapes. 

32. Names of kinds of wine. 

54. Elixir, an imaginary liquid supposed to have the power 
of transmuting metals into gold, and also of prolonging life 
indefinitely. 

60. An allusion to the old sign of an ivy bush or branch over 
the inn door. "If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis 
true that a good play needs no epilogue : yet to good wine they do 
use good bushes ; and good plays prove the better by the help of 
good epilogues." Epilogue to As You Like It. 

SANTA FILOMENA (Page 197) 

This poem was first published in the first number of the Atlantic 
Monthly., November, 1857. 

Filomena or Filumena, a saint of the Roman Catholic Church, 
was noted for her miraculous powers in healing the sick. " Long- 



THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE 243 

fellow gave the name to Florence Nightingale, partly because of 
her work among the sick and dying in the Crimean War, and 
partly because of the resemblance between Filumena and Philo- 
mela, the Latin name for nightingale." 

42. In a chapel in Pisa, Italy, dedicated to Santa Filumena is 
an altar-piece which represents the saint attended by two angels, 
and the symbols, the lily, palm, and spear. 

THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE (Page 199) 

2. Helgoland, a small island in the North Sea, a little over a 
mile long, belonging to the province of Schleswig-Holstein. 

3. King Alfred, "the Great," king of the West Saxons, ruled 
from 871 to 901. He was a man of learning and justice, translated 
much of the literature then extant into Anglo-Saxon. One of 
the books thus translated was Epitome of Universal History, 
written in Latin by Paulus Orosius. The poem is a free transla- 
tion of a passage in the Anglo-Saxon. 

58. In later editions of the poem this line reads, 

"And northward through the haze." 

THE FIFTIETH BIR ITIDAY OF AGASSIZ (Page 204) 

Jean Louis Rodolphe Agassiz was born in Switzerland, May 28, 
1807, and died at Cambridge, Massachusetts, December 14, 1873. 
He came to the United States in 1846, was appointed professor at 
Harvard University of geology and zoology, and was recognized 
as one of the greatest naturalists of the world. He lies buried in 
Mt. Auburn Cemetery at Cambridge. 

26. Ranz des Vaches, literally, chime of the cows. A series of 
notes sung or blown on the Alpine horn in Switzerland to call the 
cattle from the valleys to the high pasture lands. 



244 NOTES 



SANDALPHON (Page 207) 

According to Jewish tradition, Sandalphon is one of the three 
angels whose duty is to receive the prayers of the Israelites and to 
weave them into crowns. 

"Finished the poem, Sandalphon, — a strange legend from the 
Talmud, of the Angel of Prayer." January 18, 1858. 

I. The Talmud is the book which contains the Jewish tradi- 
tional laws and regulations of life, explanatory of the Pentateuch. 

II, Jacob's dream, (rewesis xxviii. 12. 



INDEX 



Accounts from chronicles, 216. 

afreet, 241. 

Agassiz, Jean Louis Rodolphe, 243. 

Agincourt, battle of, 240. 

Ainsworth, Henry, 213. 

Ajax, 225. 

Alectryon, 234. 

Alfred, King, 243. 

amaranth, 239. 

Amory, Charles, 225. 

Aquarius, 229. 

arcabucero, 212. 

argosy, 231. 

Ariel, 242. 

Arrow and the Sonc/, The, 230. 

Arsenal at Springfield, The, 228. 

asphodel, 239. 

Astaroth, 200. 

astrologers, 220. 

Augustine, Saint, 236. 

Aurora, 236. 

Aztec, 228. 

Babes in the Woods, 213. 
Basselin, Oliver, 240. 
Becerra, Gaspar, 234. 
Belfry of Bruges, 227. 
Bernard, Saint, 226. 
Berserk, 223. 
Birds of Passage, 234. 



bishop's-caps, 218. 

bittern, 221. 

bout, 223. 

Brewster, William, 215. 

Bridge, The, 229. 

Bruges, 226. 

Building of the Ship, The, 231. 

Burial of the Minnisink, 222. 

Caius Julius Caesar, 212. 

Campobello, 232. 

Carillon, 226. 

Cervantes, 235, 

challenge, 215. 

Charlemagne, 230. 

Charles River, 225, 

Charles V., 239. 

Christopher, 233. 

Cimbric, 228. 

Cinque Ports, 238. 

conceits, 227. 

Cordova, 211. 

cormorant, 223. 

corsair, 232. 

corselet, 211. 

Corybantes, 235. 

Courtship of Miles Standish, The, 

209. 
"cowled and dusky -sandaled," 

222. 



245 



246 



INDEX 



crank, 231. 

" crank and walty," 238. 

cuirass, 222. 

curfew, 231. 

Dante, 230. 
Decalogue, 240. 
Deering's Wo<k1s» 241. 
diapason, 229. 
dingle, 221. 
dithyramb, 235. 
ditties, 227. 
doublet, 211. 
dragoon, 239. 

eld, 220. 
elixir, 242. 
Elysium, 225. 
Epimetheus, 235. 
Equinox, 232. 
Eslicol, 218. 
Euroclydon, 221. 
Excelsior^ 225. 

Felton, Cornelius Conway, 228. 
Filomena, Santaj 242. 
Flora, 236. 

Folsom, Charles, 225. 
Footsteps of Angels, 220. 
Foresters, 227. 
Fortunate Isles, 232. 
fowliug-iJiece, 211. 

Galbraith, Victor, 241. 

Geneva Bible, 215. 

gerfalcon, 223. 

Ghetto, 240. 

Gilbert, Sir Humphrey, 232. 

Gleam of Sunshine, A, 227. 

GoiVs Acre, 224. 



Golden Dragon, 227. 
Golden Fleece, Order of, 227. 
Gold House, The, 229. 
Goldinge, 212. 
golondrina, 239. 
" great Harry," 231. 
Gregory, Saint, 211. 
groundswell, 232. 
gunwale, 210. 

harvest-moon, 230. 
Helgoland, 243. 
Hesperides, 241. 
Hidalgo, 239. 
Hildebrand, 223. 
Hippocrene, 225. 
Hopkins, Stephen, 216. 
horologe, 229. 
howitzer, 212. 
Hymeneal, 235. 

Icarus, 236. 

influence of planets, 238. 

inscription on Bruges bell, 227. 

Isabel, 242. 

Ishmael, 240. 

I wis, 230. 

Jacob's dream, 228, 244. 
Jove, 236. 
Judenstrass, 240. 

Keelson, 232. 

Labrador, 221. 
Lascar, 231. 
LUjhthouse, The, 233. 
Light of Stars, The, 219. 
Luther, Martin, 213. 

Macho, 239. 



INDEX 



247 



Madagascar, 231. 

Maidenhood, 225. 

Marah, 210. 

Mars, 219. 

matchlock, 211. 

Mather, Cotton, 236. 

Maximilian, 227. 

Mayflowers, 213. 

merestead, 218. 

Midnight Mass for the Dying Year, 

220. 
Milton, 235. 
miserere, 228. 
mistletoe, 225. 
Moldau, 220. 
Moravians, 221. 
Mordecai, 240. 
mortmain, 238. 
mountebank, 241. 
Muscadel, 242. 
Mustang, 242. 

Naiads, 232. 
Norman's Woe, 224. 

Olympus, 235. 
Orestes, 219. 

Pandora, 236. 

Pascagoula, 231. 

Pegasus in Pound, 234. 

Pentecost, 218. 

Phantom Ship, account of, 236. 

plan of first houses, 214. 

Potter, Mary Storer, 233. 

pow-wow, 212. 

Prometheus, 235. 

Psalm of Life, The, 219. 

Rabbi, 240. 



Ranz des Vaches, 243. 

Reaper and the Flowers, The, 219. 

Resignation, 233. 

Roanoke, 231. 

roebuck, 222. 

rope-walk, 241, 

roundelays, 227. 

Ruth, 220. 

sachem, 212. 

saga, 223. 

sagamore, 212. 

Samarcand, 230. 

Sandalphon, 244. 

sark, 232, 

scarfed, 231. 

Scuppernong, 242. 

Serenade, 220. 

shores, 232, 

sibyl, 236. 

Singers, The, 234. 

skaid, 223, 

Skeleton in Armor, The, 222. 

skerry, 232, 

slip, 231, 

Spanish Main, 224, 232. 

spurs, 232, 

sternson, 232. 

sternson-knee, 232. 

Sumner, Charles, 225. 

sword of Damascus, 211. 

synagogue, 239. 

Talmud, 244. 
Tartar, 228. 
teocalli, 229. 
Thetis, 236. 
thwarts, 216. 
try sting-place, 218. 
Tivo Angels, The, 239. 



248 



INDEX 



Tyler, Wat, 215. 

Uberti, Farinata degli, 230. 

Valois, Marie de, 227. 
viking, 223. 

Warden of Cinque Ports, The, 238. 



Warren, Richard, 216. 

wassail, 223. 

weeds, 222. 

Wellington, Duke of, 238. 

were-wolf, 223. 

WiDslow, Gilbert, 216. 

"wooden wall," 231. 

Wreck of the Hesperus, The, 223. 



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